Thom 2: A Face from his Past
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: This is a sequel to my long and crazy story Thom. It takes place between the last chapter of Thom and the epilogue. Thom is still part of Tim...more than anyone could have anticipated. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A while back, in October of 2007, I posted a story called _Thom_. Shortly after that, I started on a sequel to it...and then came season 6 wherein Michelle Lee was made into a villain. Since she was playing a fairly large role in the sequel, I found myself stymied by the sudden change and so I stopped writing on it for quite some time. Finally, due to the NFA Finish that WIP challenge, I got it done. If you haven't read _Thom_, I'd recommend you do so before reading this one, but if you don't want to, I've attempted to summarize it below.

_Background: In a nutshell, Timothy McGee really was Thom E. Gemcity, a homeless twenty-year-old, who was kidnaped by a secret agency. Timothy McGee was created by this agency, in particular by a man named Dr. Tanner, under the direction of the leader of the agency, Blaser. It came out when it was discovered that Tim had been secretly leaking information to this secret group in a form of post-hypnotic suggestion. Much of the background for Thom's life and Tim's creation are found in Chapters 15-17. Sarah is a member of the agency, put in place to keep Tim under control. However, she became genuinely attached to Tim after living for 10 years as his sister. At the end of Thom, Sarah agrees to testify against Blaser. Please, please, just read Thom. :) _

This story begins about two months after the last chapter of _Thom_, but _before_ the epilogue.

* * *

><p><strong>Thom 2: A Face from his Past<br>**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1: Only a Dream**

_Two eight-year-old boys played together in the sandbox. From behind, they looked different. One was dressed in overalls, the other in jeans and a t-shirt. Both boys were having fun. Two women, from opposite sides of the sandbox called to them._

_"Thom!"_

_"Timothy! Time to go!"_

_The two boys looked up, mirror images of each other as they looked toward their mothers. The women seemed to be unaware of each other._

_"Oh, Mom!" Thom whined. "I don't want to stop now. We're almost done!"_

_"Yeah, we're making the best car city in the world!" Tim protested. "We have to finish it!"_

_"We have things to do, Thom. We'll be late!"_

_Tim and Thom pretended not to hear._

_"Thomas Elton Gemcity, if you continue to ignore me, you'll be in huge trouble!"_

_"Timothy McGee, I have no problems with grounding you for the weekend if you don't get out of that sandbox this instant!"_

_"Ah, Mom!" the two boys whined._

_"Now!" the women commanded._

_The boys looked at each other and sighed._

_"Gotta go."_

_"Yep."_

_They stood and stepped out of the sandbox. Both boys disappeared as did the women. Suddenly, instead of running away, the boys were running right at each other. They were going to collide! When they reached each other, instead of crashing, they ran right into each other, leaving one full grown man lying motionless on the ground. His eyes flickered._

"Tim... Tim... are you okay?"

"Please, Mom, can't I play for five minutes? Thom can stay..." Tim mumbled.

"Tim! Wake up!"

Tim opened his eyes and stared up at a gray sky, streaked with the soft pinks that heralded a new day. That was not the view he'd been expecting...of course, he'd been playing in a sandbox with his alter ego. What _was_ he expecting really?

"Tim!"

Tim blinked and looked over at Abby who was now looking quite frightened. He wondered what he should say.

"Good morning, Abby."

Abby sighed with relief and then in exasperation slugged him on the shoulder. "What are you _doing_ out here, Tim?"

"Out where?" Tim sat up and looked around at the familiar setting. He was in the park in front of NCIS headquarters. "How did I get here?" In his head, he added, _Thom?_ There was no response. There never was.

"This wasn't intentional? Your car is still here, Tim. I know you didn't walk."

"I don't remember wanting to sleep out in the park, Abby," Tim said as he stood up, still a little confused. "I must have walked in my sleep. I had the weirdest dream."

"Another dream?" Abby said worriedly.

Tim looked at her. "It wasn't like that, Abby. It was just a dream."

"How can you be sure?"

Tim sighed. "Because I dreamed that two little boys were playing in a sandbox. Their names were Tim and Thom. Their mothers called them away and then they jumped up ran _into_ each other and left me behind. It was just a dream."

Abby leaned away from Tim and stood up. "Could you please stand up, Tim? I don't like seeing you that way."

Tim did so easily and looked around again. "I wonder how long I was out here. I don't feel really cold. It must be fairly recent." He didn't mention the fact that he'd stayed at NCIS instead of going back to his apartment...again.

"Tim."

"Don't worry, Abby. I'm still me."

"But Thom is still in there, too, isn't he."

"Yes. He always will be, Abby," Tim said. "I made that choice months ago." He looked at himself. "I'd better change. I don't want anyone to think I'm crazy, now do I?"

Abby just looked at him with concern as they walked back to NCIS.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Illicit Investigations**

_One week later..._

Tim was never able to decide who was more surprised at the conversation: he or Jimmy. Certainly, Jimmy had seemed amazed at the words which were coming out of his mouth...and he had seemed very worried about them as well.

"Hey...McGee," Jimmy said under the cover of another Ducky-spiel.

Tim looked over. The low tone indicated that he didn't want to be overheard, but he couldn't think of anything Jimmy would have to say to him that would warrant such care.

"What?"

"Do you have time to talk after work tonight? Alone?"

Tim furrowed his brow. "Uh, yeah, I guess. Why?"

"I need to talk to you...ask you something."

"Sure, okay."

Jimmy nodded and then pretended to look interested in the tail-end of another only-tangentially-related story about socks. He didn't look at Tim again while Tim himself kept wondering what in the world was going on that Jimmy wanted to talk to him about...without anyone else knowing.

The rest of the day put it out of his head. He had taken his usual obsessive news scans, praying that there was no news about an unidentified female body being discovered somewhere in a random city like Duluth or something. He also had what was becoming his _daily_ Thom invasion...as he had mentally described it. Thom was in there. He was in there and a lot more..._alive_ than Tim had expected in the beginning. It wasn't that he was somehow taking over or even really _watching_ what happened in Tim's life. It was just that Tim could _feel_ him moving around inside his brain. Thom hadn't died. He was merely quiescent...and Tim wasn't sure how he felt about that. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone because they gave him enough worried looks as it was. How could he describe the feeling of sharing his head...his entire _body_ with someone else? It sounded too much like MPD...and it most _definitely_ wasn't MPD. It was just him. It was just the way his life would have to be. He had made his decision and he wouldn't renege.

"McGee?"

Tim looked up from his absent perusal of his hard drive. Jimmy was standing there, no longer in his scrubs, looking strangely out of place in the bullpen...which was empty, Tim noticed suddenly.

"Hey, Palmer. What's up?"

Jimmy looked uncertain, but not in his usual way, more like he wasn't sure if he was making the right choice.

"I promised Abby I would ask Gibbs first, but I can't do that...because I know what he'll say."

"About what? You want to become an agent or something?" Tim asked, smiling slightly.

"No," Jimmy smiled briefly, but it didn't last.

"What is it?" Tim asked, serious now.

"You remember the raid that they did on the training facility?"

"You're talking about Blaser's people," Tim said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah."

"Of course. What about it?"

"Did Gibbs ever tell you everything we found there?"

"No. I guess I never asked. Everything got so crazy after that. I never thought about it."

"I didn't you think you had. You would have wondered."

"Wondered about what, Palmer?"

"We found..." Jimmy stopped, looking more uncertain than ever.

Tim felt Thom rustling uneasily in his head. "What did you find? What, Palmer?"

"We found one of those machines...the big version of what Tanner used on you."

Tim sat back and stared up at Jimmy. Thom's emotions flooded through Tim forcing him to stand up and face the back of the bullpen. He hated it when his face was twisted into something foreign. He shivered involuntarily.

"...and..."

"And what, Palmer?" Tim asked, and he could tell by the way Jimmy sucked in a surprised breath that Thom's voice had briefly taken over.

"...and there was someone..._attached_ to it. The raid happened in the middle of...whatever process they followed to...to..."

"To _create_ me," Tim finished. He still really hated that word...but what other choice was there?

"Yeah. He's in the hospital now...in a...well, I guess you could call it a coma. It's more like there's just a body there. They didn't have the chance to..._create_ the new personality."

Tim firmly pushed down the Thom emotions and turned around. "Why are you telling me this? Why now? Why not a month ago? Why didn't _anyone_ bother mentioning this fact?" Tim asked, hearing his own anger surging up.

"They were worried about you. I was, too. If you don't mind me saying so, you're different now, McGee. You always will be, I think...because of...of Thom."

"I thought you'd accepted that already. I can't change now. I can't change what I decided, and I don't want to...not really."

"We _have_ accepted it, McGee...mostly. It's just...hard to get used to you this way. It's hard to _think_ of you this way."

Tim shook his head and laughed in disbelief. "So, why? Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need your help."

"For what?"

"To figure out how this thing works...so maybe..."

Then, Tim got it. "...so maybe you can save this guy."

"Yeah." Jimmy looked at Tim with concern before continuing. "You mentioned the other day that you still had Thom in you, that he wasn't really dead. Is that right?"

Tim nodded.

"Well, maybe the guy's original personality is still in there somewhere. We've all seen the moments when you feel something from Thom...is it more than that? Or is it just that, lingering emotions, lingering memories?"

Tim stared at Jimmy for a long time without answering. He'd never told anyone...if he _had_ planned on telling anyone, it wouldn't have been Jimmy. They just weren't that close to each other. Friends, yes. Confidants, no. But why not? Especially if it could help someone else. But...

"You won't tell anyone?"

Now, it was Jimmy's turn to look confused. "What?"

"Don't tell anyone what I'm about to say," Tim said firmly. "I don't want anyone else to know. Promise?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Tim smiled. "I haven't told anyone yet. I'm sure."

"Okay. I promise. I won't tell."

"It's more. It's a lot more than just lingering memories."

"How much more?"

"Try...I'm still Thom, in a way. Not that he's in control or even that he's dominant, but he's still there. He always is. Sometimes, when you guys see the emotions? That's when he's...awake, for lack of a better term. It's not Thom, really. It's like an echo, a shadow of who he is...or _was_, but it's still him. I think that..." Tim laughed. "...if you could figure out how to work that thing...you could...destroy me and bring back Thom...completely."

"Or I could eliminate Thom...completely."

"I don't think you could. I think you could probably make him less...real, but because this is really his body, not mine, I don't think you could completely destroy _him_...unless you killed us both."

"Regardless, that's not what I want to do, Tim," Jimmy said, slipping into using Tim's first name without thinking about it. "You're in charge. You're the one who is alive now. You said yourself that he couldn't come back, not completely, not permanently. I just want to see if we could give one person his life back...since it may not be lost."

"Okay. Okay, Jimmy," Tim said, also falling into a familiarity that they'd never had before. "I'll help."

"Thanks, Tim."

"You want to show me what you've done so far?"

"Oh! I didn't...uh..."

Tim chuckled. "I'm not going to go home and fall apart, Jimmy. It's been two months. Tell me what you've done so far."

"As much as I can do without being a computer genius."

"Abby probably could have helped you, you know. She's nearly as good as I am."

Jimmy looked guilty.

Tim caught the expression. "She _was_ helping, wasn't she. Unbelievable. When is everyone going to realize that I'm not going to fall apart just because I see something that reminds me of what happened...of who I was?"

"I'm sorry, Tim. Really."

Tim took a deep breath, knowing that most of the frustration was coming from Thom. Not all. But most. "It's okay. You've done schematics?"

"Yeah."

"Send them to me and other notes you've made. I'll take a look at them this weekend. We can start going over it next week."

"Okay. Will do." Jimmy started to leave but then he turned back. "Tim?" The familiar address sounded foreign on his lips now. Something had changed in those few seconds.

"Yeah?" Tim made eye contact but in a way that was not actually meeting his eyes. Jimmy wondered how he managed to do that.

"If we were to figure this out, if we could make it work again..."

"What?"

"Would you be willing to...give over to Thom?"

To his surprise, Tim laughed, not as though he found it funny, but it _was_ a laugh. "Jimmy, what you're asking is tantamount to asking me if I'd commit suicide."

Jimmy flushed a little, but he needed to know. "Would you?"

Tim stared at him in silence for a long time. "Honestly?"

"Yes."

Tim shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Tim stood up and walked by Jimmy to the windows. He stared out at the river without speaking.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

Tim turned around, and there was a falsity in his expression, as if he were trying to hide something, but his voice was calm. He was just desperate for someone to understand what his life was like.

"Do you know how it feels, Jimmy? How it feels to live a life that is largely a lie? Everything that makes me Timothy McGee and _not_ Thom E. Gemcity never happened. Childhood memories that come to my mind when I think of the past are...made up. _Created_ by people who only wanted to use me. The real life, the one who _really_ belongs in this body is Thom, not me." Tim looked back out the window...or rather at his reflection in the window. "When I look in a mirror, I see Timothy McGee...but sometimes...sometimes, it's Thom looking back...and I know he's still in here with me. I can still remember everything about him, but..."

Jimmy wasn't sure what to say. He felt as though he should apologize or say something comforting, but Tim pasted a very fake smile on his face and spoke again.

"But, hey, we don't know what will happen. The only person who did died with a bullet in his brain. Let's not jump to conclusions before we know."

"Tim..."

But the confessional time was over. Tim shook his head and walked back to his desk. "Send me what you have and I'll look over it this weekend. We'll just keep this between us, right?"

"Right. You heading out?"

Tim shook his head again. "No. I still have some work to do."

Jimmy nodded, knowing that his "work" involved sleeping either at his desk or down in Abby's lab. He'd been doing that off and on during the past few weeks. No one had yet had the courage to ask him why...Jimmy didn't ask this time either. He smiled at Tim and left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim watched the elevator doors close on Jimmy and he sighed, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand.

"I'm still me," he said softly. "Thom's here, but I'm still me. Why is that so hard for everyone to believe?" For not the first time, he thought of his...sister. "Oh, Sarah, I wish you were here. You're the only one who understood." Instead of going to sleep, he left NCIS. There was something, _someone_, he needed to see.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was a quiet, secluded corner of the ICU at the Naval Hospital. Tim, with his NCIS credentials, was able to get in without any problems. As he sat, staring at the man in the bed, he wondered if _he_ had looked like this. When Tanner had begun to sublimate Thom beneath the veneer of Tim...had he looked as empty as this man did? There was no ID. No one had come looking for him. He was a mystery, a blank sheet. Is this what had happened to Thom? A muted rage burned inside Tim. He wasn't sure if it was Thom who was raging or himself at the injustice of it all. He looked over at the nurse who was on duty. She had given him a few curious looks, but she hadn't said anything.

Tim leaned over and whispered in the man's ear. "I won't let this be the end. I won't let you fade away...and I won't let you become like I am. You can be yourself...you can be better and be yourself."

There was no response. The hooded eyes did not even flicker at his words. Tim sighed and stood. With one last glance, he walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Schematics**

True to his word, Jimmy sent the schematics he and Abby had compiled that very night, but Tim only took a cursory glance at them. He knew what he'd need to do. He needed to sit down with the equipment itself and see how Jimmy and Abby had proceeded. Instead, he grabbed Abby's futon and lay down, letting himself drift off to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_We made a deal, Tim. That doesn't change. You didn't forget me. I'm letting you live. We have a balance."_

_Tim looked out at the crashing breakers. They were on a beach somewhere. "Is this really happening...or is this a dream?"_

"_Who knows?" Thom asked. He was a 20-year-old version of Tim himself, scrawny, bedraggled, starved. His life had ended at that point. He still was that person...but "corrupted" somewhat by Tim's real life experiences...because in a way they were _his_ experiences as well. "Who knows anything about what this life is like?"_

"_No one still living, that's for sure."_

_The sun set in a brilliant display of colors and rays of pure light._

"_I'm not going to live again, Tim. That's the way it is. I'm not really alive, now, you know."_

"_Then, what are you?"_

"_A shade, I guess. A leftover."_

"_Do you think I can do this?"_

"_What do I know about any of that, Tim?"_

"_Thom...you're me."_

"_Am I? Or are _you_ me?"_

_The stars sparkled overhead._

"_I don't know," Tim said and looked up at the stars. "You know all of them, don't you."_

"_So do you."_

"_Only because you do."_

"_You could have forgotten them...but you didn't."_

"McGee!"

_The two men spun around in the darkness._

"_Gibbs," Tim said._

"_Look at the stars for me, Tim."_

"_I will."_

"McGee!"

Tim opened his eyes and looked up...and up, to where Gibbs was towering over him. There was a moment during which Thom's well-cultivated mistrust of anyone in authority flared up and Tim began to back away without much conscious thought...then, he realized what he was doing.

"Boss? What's..." Tim stopped before he said _up_...when with Gibbs currently looming, he was most definitely _up_. "...going on?"

"I'd like to ask _you_ that question, McGee."

For a moment, Tim thought he'd found out about Jimmy asking him for help, about his visit to the hospital.

"Why in the name of all that is holy are you sleeping here? There aren't any cases going on. You're not behind on your paperwork. So...why? You've been sleeping at NCIS more and more lately."

Tim scrambled to his feet so that he didn't feel as though Gibbs was going to stomp on him. "I just...lost track of the time, Boss."

"Really."

Tim looked at him for a few seconds and then he shook his head. "No. I didn't lose track of the time."

Gibbs looked at him for a moment and then smiled. "Then, what is it that is keeping you here?"

Tim looked him in the eye. "I won't lie to you, Boss." _Not like you lied to me._ Then, he bent over and began to roll up the futon. If Gibbs was surprised by his non-response, he didn't show it.

"This isn't a hotel, McGee."

"I know. Hotels have better beds."

"So does your apartment, I'm assuming."

"Yes, it does."

"So why not sleep there? I believe you already pay rent?"

"Yes." Tim finished rolling up the futon and began to walk by Gibbs. He was stopped by Gibbs grabbing his arm. He whirled around and snarled, "Don't touch me." He stared at Gibbs for a moment and then turned back and walked away, knowing that Thom had surged to the front again. He also knew that Gibbs was aware of what had happened. He'd seen it before.

"_What's wrong, McGee?"_

"_Wrong, Boss? Nothing's wrong," Tim said, but at the same time, in his head, he was screaming with the desire to get out of the elevator, to get away from... from Gibbs, but it wasn't Gibbs exactly. It was what Gibbs represented._

"_Well, that much hasn't changed. You still can't lie convincingly, McGee. What is it?" Gibbs still stared intently at him._

_Now, there was more than one kind of fear in Tim's eyes. It was an awareness of an emotion he couldn't control and couldn't explain. His eyes met Gibbs' and he just shook his head wordlessly._

"_Think it through, McGee. You're terrified of something right now, and I'd like to know what it is."_

"_So..." The words stuck in Tim's throat. He cleared it and tried again. "So would I, Boss, but I don't know."_

Now, however, Tim knew. He really knew what was going on. He wasn't sure if that was an improvement, but at least, he could easily ascribe the emotional surge. He was nearly out of the office when Gibbs finally broke his silence.

"Was that Thom?"

Yes, Gibbs remembered all right. "Most of it."

"Most?"

"Yes."

"Not all?"

"No."

"How much?"

"The words. They were Thom's...and most of the anger."

"But not all of the anger."

"No."

"Are you going to tell me what the anger is for?"

"No."

Gibbs was right behind him suddenly and Tim tensed...but Gibbs didn't touch him.

"Is this going to be a problem? Are you going to have trouble following orders?"

"No, Boss."

"Fine...but you need get this under control, McGee."

Tim didn't answer and Gibbs continued.

"In here, we all understand what happened...as much as is possible. We know that Thom is in there...but outside...that's not the case, and if you go off on someone because _Thom_ has the problem, it will _not_ be something you can repeat and plan on keeping your job. Got that?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Good." Gibbs stepped around Tim and walked out the door. He didn't stop, but smoothly stepped onto the elevator and let the doors close behind him. It was only after he left that Tim let out a sigh of relief. Gibbs was right, but he had no idea what was making Tim angry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim spent the rest of the day in seclusion. He went down to the evidence garage and got out Tanner's portable device. According to the evidence log, the FBI had taken control of the full-sized machine they had taken in the raid. Then, he sat down with the schematics and began looking through them, trying to figure out how the thing worked. He didn't make much progress. Thom was rustling around in his head, resisting Tim's attempts to understand it. Waves of revulsion that had less to do with his own experience than with Thom's continually crashed over him...and through it all was a feeling of resentment toward Gibbs and Abby, and more than likely Tony, Ziva and Ducky as well, who had all _known_ about this, about that man, but had said nothing to him about it.

_Can't trust any of them. How can I? They've lied to me, hidden things from me...important things. I deserve to know!_ Tim was suddenly pacing back and forth, the machinery lying forgotten on the table as he ranted in his head. _This is a part of my past! They can't just pretend it didn't happen. I know it happened. I was there. It happened to me! I should have known about this from the beginning. I deserve that respect!_

After a while, he realized that he wasn't really thinking clearly. He was letting Thom's distrust take control. He couldn't do that. He couldn't let that happen. _Stop!_ As was depressingly usual, there was no response. The only time he could ever say that he really _communicated_ with Thom at all was when he slept...and how real that was...who knew. A deep breath, let out slowly, restored his calm, even if it didn't get rid of his resentment. The machine was still sitting out on the table, waiting for its secrets to be unlocked. Tim looked at it for a few minutes and then sat down again.

"Okay, so..._this_ is the source of the electric current, leading to..." Tim examined the schematics and Jimmy's notes. He worked and worked, taking only a ten minute break to get something to eat from the vending machines. Then, he returned.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Gosh, McGee, don't you _ever_ sleep?"

Tim jumped and took a breath as he turned around. "Jimmy, what are you doing here? It's Saturday."

"Yeah, it's Saturday," Jimmy returned pointedly.

Tim smiled and looked at the machine. "Well, I figured I might as well take a look. I didn't have anything to do today anyway."

Jimmy took off his jacket. "Let me see what you've done. If you can break through this block I've hit, I will love you forever."

Tim laughed. "That was a declaration I could live without."

Jimmy laughed, too, a lot more relaxed than he normally was. "Sorry. What have you found?"

"Not much, I'm afraid. There's only so much I can do without understanding the schematics...and these are so complex. They're like nothing I've ever seen."

"Do you..._remember_ any of it being used on you? Or on Thom?"

"Some. Not much." Tim shifted uncomfortably. "Some of it is stuff that Thom experienced at the beginning...some of it is what I experienced at the end. Nothing in the middle...which, I think, is the most important part."

"Well, it couldn't be easy, could it."

"No. Never is. Have you tried turning it on?"

"No...I didn't dare."

"Well, the whole process took months, you know. I doubt touching the machine once would create a new personality in you, Jimmy."

"I know, but..." he shrugged.

Tim looked at the equipment, looming in its mystery. "It's evil. This thing...it is _evil_. I don't know how Dr. Tanner could have done this...could have invented it...could have used it."

"Hey...Tim, if this is...I mean, you don't have to do it."

"Yeah, I do...and if they knew me at all, they would have _known_ that I needed to do it and they wouldn't have hidden this from me," Tim said, the bitterness heavy in his voice.

"Tim...I didn't want this to become some sort of evidence of..."

"Of what, Jimmy?" Tim asked, putting the schematics on the table. "Of how little they think of me? Of how little they know me now? I didn't _ask_ for this to happen. I didn't ask to be..._created_. I had no choice in the matter, but I'm here now and I'm still me. Don't I deserve to be treated that way...rather than as a circus oddity?"

Jimmy opened his mouth to speak but didn't actually say anything. Tim stared at him for a moment more and then reached over and turned on the machine.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to see how this works, Jimmy, and we're not going to figure it out by staring at it." There was a low-pitched humming sound. "It's in neutral right now...I think."

"Tim, I think this is a bad idea."

"I don't." He picked up two of the connections, long wires leading back to the body of the machine. "These go on the temples," he said absently. "He started with these. Slow induction of electric current to take control of the neurons." Tim picked up two others. "These go on the forehead...and these..." Two more. "...go on the base of the neck. The rest are sensors, keeping track of respiration, heart rate, brain waves." Tim was speaking more slowly, almost caressing the wires he held in his hands.

"How do you know all this, Tim?" Jimmy asked, now regretting his request for Tim's help. Tim was acting very strangely.

Tim just looked at the machine, lulled into a stupor by the humming. Jimmy turned it off and Tim blinked.

"I hate this thing," he said, softly. "I really hate it."

"Me, too."

"I'm done for tonight, Jimmy. I'll see you on Monday."

"Okay...Tim...you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do," Tim said and left.

Alone in the evidence locker, Jimmy stared at the machine. "Tim's right. This is evil."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: A Bad Idea**

On Sunday night, Tim actually slept at his apartment. When he walked in, it had an unlived in feeling. He had been gone for a long time. He didn't like being there. It was too hard to face all the lies...and all the losses. To stave off that feeling, he called the one person who was a truth both then and now.

"Hey, Lizzie."

"_Tim!"_ She sounded excited. _"It's been ages since you called last, not since you sent me the pictures you took in Connecticut. I wasn't sure I should call myself or if..."_

Tim smiled. "You can call anytime, Lizzie. I can't guarantee that I'll always be able to talk or even answer the phone, but you can always call."

"_How are you?"_

"I'm doing all right. How about you? How is everything?"

"_Fine."_ She hesitated. _"I think Mom and Dad are still a bit worried about me talking to you. They don't know about any of it, just that I found my brother. I think they think you'll turn me against them or something stupid like that."_

"I wouldn't do that."

"_I know. So do they, really. I think they still feel guilty about it. Are you sure you don't want to–?"_

"Someday, maybe, Lizzie. Not now." Tim took a deep breath. "I don't think I could handle being understanding and forgiving right now."

"_I get it. I won't push you to it. Have you–?"_ This pause was because she wasn't supposed to be asking the question, but Tim knew.

"No. Nothing. I won't until it's over." Inside, he wondered if it would ever really _be_ over...even _if_ Sarah was able to come back.

"_That's got to be hard."_ There was a voice just out of range and Lizzie shouted back. _"Tim, I've got to go. One of my friends is having a party and I'm supposed to go and be social."_

"Have fun."

"_You, too...it's the end of the weekend."_

"Right. Bye, Lizzie."

"_Bye, Tim."_

After he hung up, Tim sighed. It was when he talked to Lizzie that he felt the most guilty about being alive. He still had the $100 from Janene's father...and the business card that could have saved Thom's life. Jimmy's question about whether or not he would be willing to give up his life for Thom was too difficult to answer...because there _was_ no answer at all. It was an impossible question.

Of course, until he and Jimmy figured out how to work that machine, it didn't matter a whole lot _what_ he'd choose. There was only the option of going on with this complicated life he was trying to live. Sometimes, Tim had to admit that he regretted allowing himself to remember Thom, to keep Thom there. It was too hard to have another person in his head...especially when it was a _real_ person, not a created personality. He, Tim McGee, was the created personality, but a created personality with real life experiences. How did he bear it?

Tim sighed and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Thom...I wish it didn't have to be like this."

There was no response. There never was, and Tim finally went to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the course of the next week, Jimmy and Tim stayed after to work on the machine, and they made quite a few breakthroughs with it. The team noticed Tim's withdrawal, but in light of everything that had happened, they weren't sure if it was a normal progression from Thom's discovery or if it was something they should worry about. Tim had shown a great deal of frustration when asked a lot of questions about how he felt and so they didn't say anything at all. Abby noticed Tim's repressed anger, but he wouldn't tell her what was wrong and she gave up trying, telling herself that Tim just needed some time to figure things out.

Tim, for his part, threw himself into finding out how the machine worked. He spent more time on that than on his actual job...but he did not suggest that they turn it on again...until the next weekend.

He and Jimmy had decided to come on a stormy Sunday morning to try some things out, but Tim had another idea in mind and Jimmy didn't like it at all.

"Tim, this is a _very_ bad idea. If Agent Gibbs kn–" he broke off, knowing that was the worst thing he could have said. Tim was still angry about being kept in the dark about the machine and the patient they had found.

"Jimmy, I'm not asking you to kill me or anything, but I've had this machine hooked up to me before. I'll know if it's done right. Don't you agree?"

"But...we're not sure on all the procedures yet. What if I–?"

"You won't. We'll hook me up, turn it on and check the monitors. If it's working, we'll know we're on the right track. Then, we'll turn it off and let it lie. If it doesn't work, we'll know which way to go next. No one else will know if it's right or not, Jimmy. This is really about the only option."

"I still don't like it."

"Fine, don't like it, but help me do it, anyway. If we get caught by some quirk of fate, I'll tell them it was my idea and then lose my temper at them." Tim smiled.

Jimmy grinned back. "Okay, but for the record..."

"I know. I know. You think it's a bad idea."

Jimmy sighed and began to disentangle the lead wires. Tim sat down on a chair and helped him connect the wires to his chest, back and head. As he did so, the memories flooded over him. They weren't even conscious memories, just sensations, the feel of the current surging through him, the wires on his body, the feeling of being destroyed neuron by neuron. He shuddered involuntarily.

"Tim? You all right?"

"Yeah, Jimmy. I'm fine."

"How does that feel?"

Tim considered the various wires and connections. "It feels terrible...which means it's right. Okay, just turn it on. Don't fiddle with the dials or anything." He was more nervous than he wanted to admit.

"I don't like this, Tim," Jimmy said and he reached out for the on switch.

"I'm not particularly happy about it myself, Jimmy. Just let me see how we're doing."

Jimmy flipped the switch...and Tim stared at him for two seconds in silence.

"It's okay, Jimmy. I don't feel..." Tim broke off as the lights in the room flickered...and then, Jimmy's entire life flashed in front of his eyes as Tim suddenly began arching his back and seizing, throwing himself off the chair onto the floor. For a moment, Jimmy was totally frozen in terror, fear that he had killed Tim...or worse. Then, he frantically turned off the machine. It didn't turn off...and the lights in the room went out. Hoping that this wouldn't kill Tim, Jimmy pulled off all the wires and threw them back onto the machine which finally stopped humming whirring down to the kind of silence that meant it had burned out. Then, the emergency generators kicked on and the lights came back up. Tim was lying motionless on the floor.

"Oh, no. Oh, no, Tim. Come on. Snap out of it!"

Tim had stopped seizing as soon as the wires were off, but he didn't wake up.

"Oh, no. I'm so dead," Jimmy muttered and he pulled out his phone to call for help. "Please, don't die, Tim. That would be a very bad idea." He knelt down and listened. "Oh no! Oh, no!"

Tim gave a long sigh and stopped breathing. "No, Tim! They're going to kill me!" He started doing CPR and kept it up until help arrived about thirty seconds later. Tim was breathing on his own but he was still unconscious. Jimmy ran out of the building and watched the ambulance pull away. Then, he looked around.

"Oh, man...they're going to _kill_ me." He ran for his car.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Two men lay side by side in the water. There was nothing around, just the water, lapping gently against them. The sun was high overhead, shining in their eyes. As one, they squinted and sat up, looking around in confusion.

"Where am I?" they said together.

They looked around, mirror images of each other...almost.

"What's going on?" they said.

Finally, they met each other's eyes, green looking into green. They were the same person...only different.

"How did you get here, Tim? You're not supposed to be here."

"Where is here, Thom?"

"This is where we wait."

"Wait for what?"

"Who knows? This is a waiting room."

"Doesn't look much like a room to me."

"Okay, so it's not a room. I don't know...but you're not supposed to be here."

He looked around. "Where else should I be?"

"Back...back there." He pointed.

"It's kind of nice here."

"Go now while you can."

"I don't know how."

"You have to go."

The vision was fading away. The sky darkened and the waves began to grow larger.

"I can't go."

"Yes, you can." There was only darkness...and the two were separating, floating farther and farther apart.

"I can't..."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What happened to him? Why is he still unconscious? How did you find him, Jimmy?" Abby's questions tumbled over Jimmy like waves...he didn't know how to answer and he wasn't sure he really wanted to with Gibbs, Tony, Ziva and Ducky all standing there, staring at him.

"I'm not sure exactly what happened," Jimmy said, hedging.

"But you know something, don't you," Tony said shrewdly.

"Yeah..."

"What is it? What was McGee doing at NCIS on a Sunday morning?"

"Uh...well..."

Gibbs got in Jimmy's face. "Palmer, tell me...what is it that you and McGee were doing at NCIS that resulted in McGee's coma?"

"Uh...well...Agent Gibbs...uh..."

"They were looking at the...machine in evidence lockup," a raspy voice said. It was tinged with a kind of horrified disbelief.

Everyone turned toward the bed. Tim's eyes were slightly open and he was awake. They didn't notice the pronoun he had used.

"What machine?" Ziva asked.

"You know what machine," Tim answered. His eyes opened wider and his voice was different. "You were right. That was a bad idea."

"I told you," Jimmy replied. Then, Gibbs was in his face again, looking more angry than Jimmy had ever seen...and his life flashed before his eyes...again.

"Stop it," Tim said, his words a little slurred. "It's not his fault. Tim is the one who did this...not him."

Still, in the heat of the moment, they didn't notice.

"Quiet, McGee."

"No!" Tim pushed himself up, in spite of Abby's restraining hands. He seemed almost repulsed by her. "You're the ones who should be quiet. This is not _his_ fault! At least, Jimmy was honest. He, at least, told Tim about the man you found...he didn't keep it from him. He didn't _lie_ to him! He asked for help and they've been working on it for about a week."

Finally, the succession of third persons that should have been first persons hit them all...Jimmy first.

"Tim?" he asked, hesitantly.

Tim looked at him silently and Gibbs finally looked at him as well.

"It was a bad idea, Jimmy," the man in the bed said softly. "A very bad idea."

"You're not Tim," Jimmy said in horror.

"No. I'm not."

"Then, who _are_ you?" Tony asked, knowing the answer, but not wanting to hear it.

"I'm Thom. Who are you?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: I'm Here Now**

That simple declaration should not have had the power to suck all the life out of the room...but it did. Thom looked at them all. They were strangers...sort of...only he knew them.

"Please, tell me this is a joke, McGee," the man said.

"You're...you're...Tony?" Thom asked. Tim's memories came rushing in. Images of Tony, images of other people. It was disconcerting to say the least. "Tim thinks of you as a friend...even though you're not very nice."

Tony's mouth opened, but Thom moved on. "You're Ducky...and you're...Ziva. He trusts you. You're Abby...and...Gibbs. I remember you. I've seen you before," Thom said.

"McGee...stop it," Tony said.

Thom suddenly felt very angry. He was afraid, and fear could get you killed. "Stop calling me that! I'm not _McGee_! I'm Thom! Thom Gemcity. I didn't ask for this, and I didn't expect it, but I'm here now; so stop calling me McGee!" He looked around the room and saw everyone back up a step. He was in a hospital...and he hated hospitals. Nothing good ever happened in a hospital. There was pain and people died. He swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Wait! Tim..." Abby protested.

He shied away from her. "I'm _not_ Tim! I'm not staying here. I'm leaving. Where are Tim's clothes?" He looked around, searching for something better than a hospital gown. To his surprise, Abby held them out to him and looked searchingly into his eyes.

"No...no, you're not Tim. I can tell. Your eyes...they're different. Your voice is different."

Thom looked back at her warily before putting on his...Tim's shirt. "I saw you once...only once. It didn't last very long."

There was a moment of confusion and then he saw the comprehension in her eyes. "You asked for Lizzie."

"Yes."

"What happened?" Abby asked, her voice soft, nonconfrontational...almost soothing. "Tim didn't think that you could ever come back. What happened?"

"I don't know. I didn't watch. I hate that machine. All I know is..." Thom stopped, remembering the water and not sure how to explain it. "...I'm here and Tim isn't."

"Is Tim...dead?" Jimmy asked.

Thom looked at him, with a lot less animosity than he had looked at Tony and Gibbs...and even Abby. He could see how afraid Jimmy was of the answer to that question.

"I don't know. Was _I_ dead? If so, then, yes. If not...who knows?" Thom went back to getting dressed, seemingly paying no attention to the others in the room, but they all caught his furtive glances...as if he didn't trust them at all. When he finished, he stood up and began to leave. Tony caught him by the arm.

"Hey, wait...McG–Thom. Where are you–?"

Thom whirled around and grabbed Tony's wrist. "Don't you..._ever _touch me again." He could feel the fear rushing through him, just like in the alleys and it took him much too long to access Tim's memories of Tony and dismiss him as a threat. As he held onto Tony's wrist, he could see the shock...and revulsion in his eyes. This was not how Tim would have reacted. He wasn't Tim. Now, they _all_ knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He could see it in how they stood, in their expressions. Now...now, they were looking at him like the people did on the street...a piece of something distasteful to be forgotten.

"I...I'm sorry...Thom."

Somehow, that was worse, only Thom didn't know why. He let go of Tony and continued on his way, hoping someone would call him back...but no one did. So he walked out into the hall and out of the hospital. Once there, he wasn't sure what to do. He knew he was in Washington DC, but he wasn't sure _where_ within that city he was. He needed to go somewhere, someplace where he could _think_ and remember and figure out what had happened. As he stood on the sidewalk, he felt lost, alone...afraid. He had been dumped ten years in the future and he didn't know what to do. He barely knew who he was.

"Tim, what have you done to me?" he asked.

There was no response. There never was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Jimmy!" Abby screeched as soon as the door closed. "What did you _do_?"

"It wasn't me!" Jimmy protested, feeling as though he was going to burst into flames under the pressure of all the burning glances. "Tim wanted to see if we were on the right track! He...he insisted that he put on the stupid things. So I helped him and..."

"You _helped_ him?" Tony asked incredulously. "You _helped_ him put that...that stuff on?"

"He would have done it without me! I was hoping that I could at least monitor things. Nothing was supposed to happen at all!" Jimmy said. He felt as though he was being accused of murder. "We were going to turn it on, see if the monitors were working and then turn it off again. That's all!"

Ducky hadn't said much...hadn't said anything at all really up to that point. Now, he crossed the room to where Jimmy stood...pressed against the wall.

"Mr. Palmer," he said sternly, but not unkindly, "if nothing was supposed to happen, then what _did_ happen?"

Jimmy shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't. Tim was looking at me. He started to say that he didn't feel anything. Then, the lights flickered and...and Tim started having a seizure. I pulled everything off him as fast as I could and the lights went out. I think the machine burned out, too." He looked plaintively at Ducky. "Honestly, Dr. Mallard, I tried. I tried to talk him out of it and I tried to help him!"

"Well...why don't you go after him now?" Ducky heard the shifting behind him and turned around. "What Timo–Thom said was right. This is _not_ Mr. Palmer's fault. He also appears to be the only person in this room whom Thom trusts in any degree. I do believe Timothy was angry with all of us. Now, we know why. None of us tried to find out, and now, we are reaping the harvest of our error in judgment."

"We were only trying to protect him," Abby said.

Ducky smiled at her. "Not everyone is grateful for protection, my dear."

"He resented it," Jimmy said into the silence.

"What?" Tony asked angrily.

"He was _really_ mad when he found out about the machine and about the man."

Gibbs got in his face again. "Why did you tell him, Palmer?"

"B-Because...he...I...well..." Jimmy hated that Gibbs made him stammer so badly, but then, most people did. "I needed his help," he finally said.

"Why didn't you clear it with any of us first?"

"Because I knew...knew what you'd...say, Agent Gibbs. You...you would have said no."

"And yet you did it anyway?" Ziva asked. She hadn't said much either. She was digesting the fact that Thom's comment was that Tim trusted her.

Jimmy steeled himself and visibly straightened. "Isn't that man's life just as valuable as Tim's? Are you going to tell me that Tim has more of a right to live than that man, just because we happen to know Tim and the man doesn't have an identity?"

No one could answer that question because logically the answer was supposed to be no...but in reality, they all valued Tim's life more.

"Mr. Palmer, why don't you go and make sure..._Thom_ doesn't...run into any trouble."

"Yes, Doctor," Jimmy said. He walked toward the door and then turned back. He looked around at them all, at the accusation in their eyes. "I won't apologize for trying to save someone. I _am_ sorry for what's happened, but I'm not sorry I asked for help." Then, he walked out.

"What are we going to do?" Abby asked. "We can't just...can we? I mean, it's...he's..."

"Can we sublimate Thom again when we know he _is_ alive and well within McGee?" Ziva asked.

"How can we _not_?" Tony asked vehemently. "McGee's part of the _team_. Thom...McGee said that he was dead...more or less."

"Looks like it's less rather than more," Ducky commented.

"How could Jimmy _do_ that?" Abby burst out. "I told him that he should ask someone before he told Tim. When we were first working on it...on the big one. I _told_ him."

"And yet, Abigail, Mr. Palmer was right. _We_ were wrong to keep it from him."

"None of that matters," Gibbs said, breaking his silence.

"It doesn't matter?" Abby asked.

"No. It doesn't. What matters is that we figure out what happened and how to fix it...because I don't care if _Thom_ is actually somewhat alive. McGee is the one who needs saving. If Palmer is right and the machine burned out, we're going to have to fix it again, figure out how it works and use it to get McGee back."

"What about Thom?" Ducky asked.

"I don't know, but I do know that I'm not letting McGee die...and that's final."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Th-Thom?" Jimmy asked tentatively. He was standing on the sidewalk, looking rather forlorn.

"This is all wrong...Jimmy. It all _feels_ wrong." He turned around and Jimmy could see the strain. "I haven't been alive for ten years. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know...what's going on...I don't even know who I'm supposed to be. I can_ feel_ something and I know that it's not me feeling it. It's Tim! It's like I'm two people at once, but not exactly."

Jimmy came closer, but Thom backed away.

"Tim felt the same way."

"He did?"

"Yeah. He said sometimes he would look in the mirror and see you instead of him. We've all seen the moments when it's you and not him...even before now."

"What did I do to him, Jimmy?" Thom asked, after a moment of stricken silence. "All I wanted was to be remembered. I didn't want to disappear...I didn't want to be a cipher that no one knew existed." It was impossible for Tim's facial structure to change, but somehow, he looked very young...young and damaged. "I wanted to...to...to _be_ someone. I was invisible or stomped on for five years. I didn't want to make Tim...feel such...such _pain_. That's not what I wanted! _This_ isn't what I wanted! This isn't my life! This isn't who I am! This is _Tim's_ life!"

"Tim didn't say that it hurt him, Thom," Jimmy said quickly. "He's never said that. I know it's been hard for him, but it didn't hurt."

"Are you sure?"

"No." Jimmy laughed. "Tim wasn't very forthcoming about how he felt. I can only say that he didn't _act_ as though it hurt him."

"What do I do?"

"Well...I don't know. Maybe you should go home. Sleep on it. Maybe things will look better in the morning."

"Where's home?"

Jimmy started to answer but, with a twisted expression, Thom suddenly answered his own question.

"Silver Spring."

"I can give you a ride."

"Thanks...Jimmy. What's going to happen?" he asked.

"I have no idea...although if I can survive a day without the team killing me, I'll be happy." Jimmy meant it as a joke, but he realized that Thom had not taken it that way. He had visibly flinched. "Hey, I was just kidding. None of this is your fault."

It really was like talking to someone who was barely not a teenager. Thom nodded and followed Jimmy to his car. He didn't say anything on the drive over. Jimmy was relieved that he knew Tim's address because he wasn't sure if Thom would be able to tell him. They pulled up to the building a few minutes later.

"Here we are. Can you think of where you...Tim lives?"

Thom was hunched down in the seat. He looked at Jimmy anxiously.

"Could you...I think I know, but just in case?"

"Sure." Jimmy put the car in park and got out with Thom. Together, they walked up the steps and into the building. Thom's steps became more and more reluctant as they neared Tim's apartment, but when they got there, Thom automatically got out Tim's keys and opened the door.

He stared around the apartment for a long time without going inside.

"You can go now, Jimmy," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"I said you can go," Thom repeated, his voice slightly angered...but there was more than a hint of fear.

"All right. You can...call me if you need anything."

"Right...thanks. Whatever."

"Don't run away...Thom."

"I won't. I know you're all worried about Tim. I wouldn't do that."

The unspoken _And you're not worried about me_ hung in the air and Jimmy really didn't know what to say. "Okay...um...bye."

"Bye." Thom stepped inside and shut the door.

Jimmy stared at the closed door, swallowed and then walked out of the building. As he left, he pulled out his phone. "Michelle? Have you heard?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thom looked around. Every second he spent in the apartment meant another second where he both didn't know where he was and did know. He would look at something and wonder why Tim had it...and then, he would know. It was like watching a show where the sound and the visuals were out of sync, one coming after the other...first sight...then, after a delay, the comprehension.

"Tim...what am I supposed to do in here? Why? _Why_ did you have to do this? I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't my life. This isn't _me_. I'm supposed to be...dead, remember?"

There was no answer. Thom walked around, picking up a book, a record, pieces of Tim's life...and what a life he had. It just wasn't fair. Tim was the made-up person, but he was the one who had the good life, the good times, the friends, family, job.

"I have nothing," Thom whispered. "I don't want to be here." He walked into the bedroom and threw himself down on the bed. He tossed and turned, the soft mattress feeling both familiar and strange to him. He shouldn't be having this problem. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be here...no one wanted him here.

Finally, after an eternity, he fell asleep.

_It was a small enclosed room, permeated with a faint humming designed to turn one's brains into mush._

_The two of them stood staring at each other across a bank of machinery._

"_Tim, you've got to come back."_

"_I don't know how. I tried. I couldn't."_

"_You shouldn't have gone in the first place."_

"_It wasn't supposed to happen," Tim protested, looking angrily at the blinking lights. "Nothing was supposed to happen. On. Off. That's it!"_

"_What am I supposed to do now, Tim?"_

"_Live...I guess."_

"_Tim! I can't live...not really." Thom paced back and forth, trying to find a way across all the wires and electrical connections. "I told you before that I couldn't. Every moment...I feel pulled...pulled apart! This is wrong!"_

_Tim sighed and looked back over his shoulder. "I know. I wasn't sure before, but I know. I'm stuck, Thom. I wish I wasn't. I don't want to be here...anymore than you want to be there. There's only one way to fix it, you know."_

"_What's that?"_

"_Fix the machine."_

"_Tim! I told you. I don't know anything about it! I...I'm not smart enough!"_

"_You have access to as much raw intelligence as I do...did." Tim leaned over and began to fiddle with one of the wires. "You know as much as I do about it. You just have to focus and find my experiences with it."_

_Thom backed away. "I don't want to know."_

_Now, Tim looked up and the difference in their ages, their experiences, was painfully obvious. He nodded in understanding._

"_I know you don't. Sometimes...we have to do the things we don't want to do...because there's no other way."_

"_No one trusts me."_

"_You don't trust them either, you know."_

"_It's hard to trust people who look at you the way they do."_

"_It's frustrating," Tim agreed. Then, he sighed...and the sigh echoed. "But I'd take all that frustration to get back."_

_Thom started to cry. "I don't know if I can."_

"_Just try." The images began to fade away. "Just try, Thom. That's all you can do."_

Thom opened his eyes. His cheeks were wet...and it was dark in the room. What time was it? He rolled over...realized that he was tangled in the sheets...untangled himself and looked at the clock. It was five in the morning. It had been early when he went to bed. There wasn't much point in trying to sleep again.

He sat on the edge, gently rubbing the sheet between his fingers. Lizzie had done that all that time, he remembered. She used to do it when she was nervous. A memory clicked into place from Tim that told him Lizzie still did that. He could call her...but he couldn't. Even Lizzie was part Tim's life, not his.

The dreams. Somehow it was almost comforting to know that the dreams would continue. Tim was the only one who understood, the only one he could really trust. Only Tim cared about him and had cared enough to be sure his memories survived. ...and Tim hadn't deserved to be booted back to the netherworld because of how much he cared. Thom stood up and let out a loud breath.

"I won't let you down, Tim. I promise," he said to the empty air. There was no response, but there was a sudden surge of emotion...gratitude. Tim was in there. It was possible that Thom could bring him back...and he would try.

Even if it meant his own destruction.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: A Stranger**

Whether the intelligence dominating was Tim or Thom, the body reacted on autopilot once Thom decided to get ready for the day. He was surprised to find himself in the bathroom shaving. Thom had never shaved...well, once or twice he'd done it, but that was not a common occurrence. He walked into the bedroom after showering and opened the closet, looking at the clothing hanging there. Thom was amazed at how nice it all was. The clothes were clean! They were almost new! There was a strange eagerness in his movements as Thom pulled pants and shirts out of the closet and tried to decide what to wear. Finally, he settled on one of the more worn suits. Tim seemed to like it enough to wear it a lot. He tried to find a shirt he wanted to wear, but none of them seemed right. Instead, he walked to the chest of drawers and found a drawer full of t-shirts. He pulled them out, one after the other, looking for the shirt that would fit.

Finally, he found it. It was a gray shirt, older, obviously worn a lot. It read _MIT_. Thom liked that. MIT would have been a great place to go to school. Some of the greatest astronomers and physicists in the world had been there: Feynman, Gell-Mann, Hale. Then, his smile faded. He'd never been. Tim had, but he hadn't. Still, he put it on and then pulled the dark jacket over it. Walking out into the main room, he was struck again by the detritus of Tim's life. Tim really had lived. He wasn't some made up identity. He had a life. He had likes and dislikes that were not the same as Thom's...for instance, the records. Thom could not fathom why Tim would still have records, nor why he would use an old typewriter. He obviously had embraced the computer age. He had a fancy dual-head display...Thom paused and wondered how he knew what it was called. No one had used them when he had lived.

He felt that strange pulling again, as if something was sucking him away from his body. He closed his eyes tightly until the feeling passed; then, with tears in his eyes, he walked into the kitchen. A smile spread across his face as he looked at one of the shelves.

_Tim eats dinosaur cereal._ It was a nice thought because, in spite of merciless teasing from his friends, Thom had insisted on eating it. It was _his_ cereal. Now, Thom pulled the box down, found the bowls and spoons without having to search for them and poured himself a bowl of dinosaur cereal. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that he'd snuck down early to eat before Mom and Dad and Lizzie were up.

"_Thomas Gemcity! What are you doing?"_

"_Eating."_

"_We'll be having breakfast in twenty minutes."_

"_I can eat then, too."_

"_Thom..." She tried to look stern, but she couldn't help smiling at Thom's innocent look. "I'm going to have to buy this stuff by the truckload the way you shovel it down your throat."_

"_I like it!"_

"_Obviously."_

Thom swallowed more than cereal as he took the last bite. Someone knocked on the door, startling him out of his reminiscence. He stood and walked over, peeking through the peephole carefully before opening the door.

"Good morning...Thom," Ziva said, the hesitation on the name painfully obvious. "I live nearby and I remembered that you would not have your...McGee's car to get to work." Then, she noticed the streaks of tears on Thom's cheeks. "Is there something wrong?"

Thom sniffed and hurriedly wiped the tears away. "No. Nothing is wrong. I was just...finishing." He turned away and put the bowl in the sink, hearing his mom's voice: _"Thom, you wash out that bowl! I'm not going to do two sets of dishes for breakfast!"_ With a sigh, he turned on the water and slowly swirled the bowl around in his hands, watching the water run down the sink. A hand on his back made him jump and whirl around.

"I am sorry. You do not seem all right...Thom," Ziva said, her hands in the air, showing she meant no harm.

Thom looked at her distrustfully. "I'm...I'm fine." He took a breath. "I...need to go to work?"

"You might as well be at NCIS as anywhere else."

"You're worried."

"Yes."

"I don't blame you. I'm worried, too." He looked around. "Is there anything I'm missing?"

Ziva looked at him. "McGee's bag...and...well..."

"What?"

"Most people consider it important to wear shoes."

Thom looked at his feet and saw only slippers. He blushed in total embarrassment. It had been so long since he'd had more than one thing to put on his feet that he hadn't even considered it. Quickly, he dashed into the bedroom, searched through the floor of Tim's closet and found some shoes. He put them on and ran back out. Ziva was holding Tim's bag. She was holding it out to him, but Thom was instantly on guard. He reached out for it slowly, half-expecting her to yank it away at the last minute. She didn't and he pulled it from her hands, holding it close to his chest as they left.

On the drive over, Thom didn't say anything, and he noticed Ziva's sidelong glances at him. She had been perfectly polite...but he could feel her discomfort. It was rivaled only by his own. He didn't want to be here, not in Tim's life, not with all of them looking at him like that.

"_Hey, dweeb! How about we help you out?"_

"_I...I don't need any help, thanks."_

"_I think little Timmy here needs some help with his locker, don't you?"_

"_Oh, yeah."_

Thom shook his head. That wasn't his memory. That wasn't something he remembered happening to him. It hadn't happened. He wasn't ever bullied. He...

"Thom?"

Thom didn't answer as he tried to figure out where that memory had come from. Then, he tracked in on the name spoken in it: Timmy. Tim had a memory from when he was in high school! That wasn't right. Tim hadn't been alive at that age. Thom had. Thom thought hard and found a real memory of high school.

"_Mrs. Line! Mrs. Line! I got accepted! I'm going to New York!"_

Thom winced as a physical ache formed at his temples. He massaged them gently. Even though he couldn't verify it in any way, somehow, he knew that those two events had happened on the same day. One had happened in Tim's memory and one in Thom's. For some reason, even though his own memory was the real one, Tim's memory was easier to access. It frightened Thom more than he could say.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Thom, with me!" Gibbs ordered as soon as the elevator doors opened.

Thom automatically started to follow him, but then, stopped. "Why?"

Gibbs, for a moment, was ready to wallop Thom upside the head, but checked himself just in time. He remembered what Tim had told him about Thom's life. He wouldn't accept that as anything other than an attack.

He sighed. "The Director needs to speak with you."

"Why?"

"Because...she's one agent short and she needs to see what has happened."

Finally, Thom nodded nervously and followed in Gibbs' wake. After the two of them disappeared into Jenny's office, Tony looked at Ziva.

"So?"

"So, what?"

"How is he?" Tony asked, urgently.

"_He_ is Thom," Ziva said. "That is how he is. He is afraid. He is suspicious. He is young. After all that has happened to him, I do not blame him for being afraid of us."

"What do you mean?"

Ziva hesitated. Tim had told her those things in confidence, and she didn't think it was up to her to explain. "I am not sure I should tell you."

"Ziva, did you see him yesterday? The way he looked at me when I grabbed for his arm?"

Ziva forced a smile. "Tim would have done that."

"No, Ziva," Tony said, not smiling. "Tim _wouldn't_ have done that. He wouldn't have been afraid of me. He might have been annoyed, but Thom was terrified. For a second there, when I looked at him...he was afraid I was going to hurt him. What happened to him that would make him react that way?"

"His life was not happy, Tony. Bad things happened to him...many very bad things. That is why he is afraid."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The door to Jenny's office opened as Thom and Gibbs approached. Jimmy came out looking a bit brow-beaten.

"What's going on?" Thom asked. "Jimmy...did you get in trouble?"

"It's okay, Thom," Jimmy said, smiling.

"No. No, it's not. Not if they're blaming you for it." He looked at Jenny. "It's not his fault! It's not his fault that I'm here. Jimmy _tried_ to tell Tim not to do it, but Tim was determined. Tim didn't want this to happen either. It was an accident!"

"Thom," Jimmy began, but Thom kept talking.

"Nothing was supposed to happen! There was..." He paused and winced. "...a power surge. The lights flickered, right?" He looked at Jimmy for confirmation. He nodded. "The lights flickered and then there was a surge. It must have triggered the machine...because...because it wasn't doing anything before." Thom was speaking quickly, almost manically as he tried to get out Tim's memories. "The...the connectors burned out after that. They probably aren't working anymore. But it wasn't Jimmy's fault. Please, don't blame him! Please–"

"Thom, calm down," Jenny said. "Jimmy is not in trouble."

Thom was panting with the effort of tapping into memories and not allowing them to overwhelm him...and keeping himself from running away as he wanted to do.

"I question his decision, but he is not in trouble. He was giving me a rundown of what you...Tim and he discovered."

"I want to help. That's why I'm here. I want to help him get the machine fixed; so that Tim can come back."

"Are you certain, Thom?" Jenny asked.

Thom stared at her, the hopelessness in his gaze an expression she'd never seen in Tim...and one she hoped she'd _never_ see again.

"I have nothing...Director. My parents are dead. My sister belongs to someone else. No one missed me after I left. No one cares now...no one except Tim. Why would I want to be here? What do I have? All I have are the memories of what happened to me, of what I did. I don't need to relive that every time I have a moment to think. I would rather spend the rest of my existence in limbo than have to live like this...in someone else's life. I'd rather be dead." He paused. "Please...please, ma'am. Just let me try to make it work again."

Jenny nodded. "Permission granted, Thom. Mr. Palmer, please take him with you."

Jimmy looked like he was ready to cry but he nodded. "Come on, Thom. Let's see what the storm did."

Thom followed him in silence.

"Do you ever get the feeling that the world is utterly unfair, Jethro?" Jenny asked, looking after him.

"Too often."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Keeping the Demons Away**

"Have...have you looked at...it?" Thom asked slowly as the elevator descended.

"Not yet. I'm afraid it's going to be bad," Jimmy answered. He looked at Thom and really saw him as a person, not just an invader. A person who had lost his life a long time ago and now was being forced to confront that irrevocable loss anew. It really wasn't fair. Life wasn't supposed to be so painful...so unwanted. "Are you sure you want to do this, Thom? Tim hated this thing."

"But he worked on it."

"Yeah."

Thom was staring straight ahead. "I hate it, too. I can work on it."

The elevator doors opened and then there was a whispered addition.

"I hope."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What we need to do is keep him as isolated from the people who don't know about this as possible," Jenny said, forcing herself back to business. "Scuttlebutt has made the rounds and everyone knows Tim was in the hospital yesterday, but they don't know why. Only a few people know anything about this. SecNav...knows whether or not he believed my report. Even with the trial, the details of what was done have been kept secret. We need to keep it that way."

"We'll do our best to intercept people looking for McGee, but we can't keep everyone away, Jen. That will seem too suspicious," Gibbs said.

"Then, Thom will have to learn to answer to people looking for McGee. That's all we can do."

Gibbs nodded and turned to go.

"I don't think I've ever felt worse about trying to save someone, Jethro."

"I don't feel bad about trying to save McGee. I hate what happened to Thom before all this started."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thom looked at the machine with a mixture of loathing and terror. Jimmy was fiddling with it, trying to figure out what had happened to it.

"It's broken, isn't it," Thom said, softly.

"Yeah. I think it is. We're going to have to rewire the whole thing before we can get started again." Jimmy glanced at Thom and saw the desire for flight in his stance. "Can you help? If not, I can always get Abby. She has other things she has to do, but she's–"

Thom swallowed and shook his head. "No. I can help. I need to help." He took a few steps toward it, stopped and then closed the distance. "I can't believe that this is all it took."

"I think they probably used the bigger one on you," Jimmy said.

Thom closed his eyes tightly as an image of a large room, dark and cold, full of small lights, welled up in his head. "Yes. I think you're right. Where is it?"

"Director Shephard let the FBI take possession of it a couple of months ago. They've claimed to have dismantled the thing. I don't know if they really did, but...we're not likely to find out. This stuff is too weird for them to talk about it." He took in the charred wiring. "This is the best we have."

"Great," Thom said, and the way he said it was like Tim...so much so that Jimmy looked at him. ...but no, it was Thom standing there. Jimmy could tell the difference between them, which surprised him considering how awkward he normally was. It was something about the way Thom stood versus Tim, something in the lines on his face. He couldn't have explained it in words, but Jimmy was positive that if Tim did come back, he'd know before he said anything.

"We have the schematics...so we can replace everything, but it's going to take time because..."

"...because we don't know what everything does," Thom finished. He swallowed again and sat down, touching the wires hesitantly. "I guess...I guess that...we should get started."

"Abby's bringing down all the wiring. I'm not really a tech guy. Do you think you could–?"

"I guess...we'll find out, won't we?" Thom looked anything but enthused about seeing whether or not he could help rewire the machine that had taken away his life.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Hours later, in the evening, Tony, Ziva and Gibbs returned to NCIS. It had been a long day, one filled with work...and worries about the absent fourth member of the team. For Gibbs, although he hadn't admitted to it, his worries were complicated by the ever increasing realization that Thom was a real person, and a person in pain.

"Jimmy and Abby are still here," Ziva pointed out. Sure enough, their cars were parked in the otherwise empty parking lot...along with Tim's Porsche. "Could they all still be working?"

"Why not? We are," Tony said with a yawn.

"Let's find out," Gibbs said.

They all went inside, up the elevator, across the bullpen, down the elevator to the evidence lockup. There they were. Thom had, at some point, abandoned the jacket and was working in his t-shirt. Jimmy was...asleep. Abby was sitting across from Thom, looking as though she'd like to be hugging him but not daring.

"You still here?" Tony asked.

Abby jumped; Jimmy started from his drowsing, but Thom dropped whatever it was he'd been working on and whirled around, ready to...fight? Run? Who knew, but it took just a few seconds too long for him to recognize them.

"Obviously, Tony," Abby said. "Thom's been figuring out the wiring."

"Tim knew a lot about it," Thom qualified. "I'm...just...guessing."

"You're guessing really well, then," Abby insisted. She reached out to touch him, but Thom flinched and her hand dropped. "We've got some of the wiring in, but it's going to take a few more days before we finish...even if I could be here the whole time, which I can't."

"Well...you might as well stop for the night, then. Thom, I need to talk to you."

Abby stood up, but didn't leave. Thom just looked at her with a wary expression and then turned back to Gibbs. He didn't see her face fall...but Gibbs did.

"What about...sir...Gibbs?" Thom asked, obviously searching for the appropriate address.

Gibbs gestured for everyone else to leave and he saw Thom get more tense as the room emptied, but he wanted to talk to him alone. When the room contained only the two of them, Gibbs gestured for Thom to sit. He did so, only reluctantly.

"Okay, first things first, Thom," Gibbs said, briskly...and then, modulated his tone when he saw Thom tense for flight. "You are living in McGee's world."

"Yes, sir. I know that."

"Well, people who know only McGee are going to be talking to you...and expecting to see McGee...not Thom. We'll try to field most of the questions ourselves, but we can't depend on stopping everyone."

"What does that mean, sir?"

"That means that you have to be ready to pretend to be McGee."

"You mean that you want me to lie? Sir?" Thom's tone became laced with sarcasm, the kind that Tim had usually only employed when speaking to Tony.

"No, I want you to protect McGee by not letting the whole world know that someone else has taken over his body."

"By lying and letting people think one thing when the other is true."

"You're talking about me now, aren't you."

Thom stood up...but not to run. "You _lied_, sir. You lied to Tim. You covered up what you found! You didn't let him know...didn't let him _choose_. You made the choice for him and decided that you knew what was best. _You_ decided. We deserved the _truth_ and you stole that from us. Now, because of what happened, you want _me_ to lie, to decide what is best for Tim...for his friends, for his coworkers. You're making the decision, not any of them. You're _lying_!" Thom's eyes filled with tears and he turned around, making motions toward brushing them angrily away.

"Your social worker felt terrible about what happened, you know. She never forgave herself."

Thom didn't reply.

"Sometimes, we have to lie, Thom."

"She didn't have to," he whispered.

"Maybe she didn't."

"No! She _didn't_ have to!" Thom turned back around, saying words he'd probably wanted to say for a long time, but never had anyone care enough to listen. "She kept saying that she would find us a place together. She kept saying that we would be able to still be a _family_! She never even _hinted_ that there might be a problem...not until she'd already made the decision to take Lizzie away! Everyone wanted her and no one wanted _me_! She just let it happen. She let them take Lizzie. She let them destroy what little was left of my family. She _didn't_ have to do that! She didn't have to...lie!"

Gibbs tried to decide how to respond when Thom suddenly grabbed his head in his hands and staggered before falling to his knees.

"No...no...that didn't happen," Thom said in a pain-filled whisper.

Gibbs reached out to help him, but immediately, one hand flung out to push Gibbs away.

"Don't touch me!" Thom said, shaking now. He pressed his hands to his forehead. "Too many...too many. They're not real! Stop!"

Gibbs waited, crouching on the floor, hoping that Thom's pain would stop, regretting the things that had happened which created such a rift between Thom and the rest of the human race.

Gradually, the shaking subsided, and Thom looked up. He was angry...angry and afraid.

"Why did they do this to me? Why?"

"I don't know, Thom."

"It's not fair! It's not right! ...and it hurts!" Thom's head dropped into his hands again.

"What hurts?"

"Too many memories, not enough time."

"Go home, Thom. Come back tomorrow and try again."

"Where's home, sir?" Thom asked, looking up. "Connecticut? The alleys of New York? Here? Which home?" He winced once again.

"McGee's home."

"I hate this. I hate everything about it." Thom stood up, wobbling a little, but he refused to allow Gibbs to help him.

"I know what happened to you, Thom...and I'm not the same person."

"I know...but it doesn't matter. Everyone's the same." Then, he walked to the elevator and got on. Gibbs didn't join him, deciding to let him ascend alone. He looked back at the evidence locker and shook his head. It really _wasn't_ fair.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thom looked around, hoping that Jimmy might still be there. He wanted a friend...and Jimmy was the closest he had. He looked around and saw Jimmy's car...and Jimmy...but not alone. Tentatively, he approached the car.

"Jimmy?"

Jimmy jumped and blushed bright red.

"Sorry...I didn't mean..." Thom started to back away.

"No! No, it's okay, Thom." Jimmy looked around. "Hey...Michelle and I..." He blushed again. "...we were going to go and grab a late dinner. You want to join us?"

"I don't want to be in the way."

"No, you wouldn't be," Michelle said, walking far enough so that Thom could see her. She was smiling easily. "It's too late for anything fancy, but I'm starving."

Thom was about to say that she didn't really know what the word meant, but he stopped himself, finding that he didn't want to wipe the smile from her face when she was being so kind, so inviting...so friendly. There was no indication that she resented him for being there. He reached into Tim's memories and found that his alter ego had sometimes treated her poorly and that he now regretted it. Thom forced himself to smile.

"I would...thank you."

"Great! We can drop you off afterward. Come on!" Jimmy unlocked his doors, opened the door for Michelle and smiled at Thom as he got in the driver's side. Thom hesitated for another moment before opening the back door and getting inside. The three drove away and Thom didn't see the other person in the parking lot, watching them leave. Not even Tim would have noticed the observer.

The dinner was enjoyable if a little awkward. Thom noticed how carefully Jimmy steered the conversation away from sensitive topics...like Thom. Instead, they talked about things Michelle was doing in Legal and how they managed to sneak away to meet secretly. They also talked shop a little about a case of a contested will that, for some reason, had come to roost in Legal because the man was a SEAL who had been killed while doing some covert operation. Ducky had been supervising Jimmy as he took lead on the autopsy, and Michelle had been tapped to field inquiries regarding his will. She wasn't sure why, but it had become a real hassle.

"The worst thing is that even _I_ don't know what's in the will...so I have no idea why they're fighting over it so much," she said ruefully.

"I know. The Navy has been on my case, too. When they found out Ducky was letting me lead on the autopsy, they went through the roof."

Thom didn't speak much, but he found himself relaxing, just a little. This was like having friends...and it had been so long since he'd had friends.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Thom. You shouldn't be forced to listen to all this," Michelle said.

"No, it's okay. I like it."

"You _like_ it? Man, you can take my job, then."

Thom actually smiled...and for once, that smile didn't suddenly disappear in a wave of pain or regret. It brought out a glimpse of what Thom might have been like had he survived...because it didn't look like how Tim smiled. There was something much younger in it. Unfortunately, it was getting late.

"Oh, I have _got_ to get home. If I don't get enough sleep tonight, I'm going to start letting people sneak by me in Legal tomorrow," Michelle said with a yawn.

Jimmy pulled out his wallet. "No, I've got it, Thom. I can pay occasionally...not as easily as you can, but I _can_ pay."

"As I can?" Thom asked, confused for a few seconds. Then, he remembered. "Oh, Tim's rich, isn't he."

"Yeah, he is," Jimmy said with a smile.

"Why does he live in that little apartment, then?"

"I don't know. I've never asked." Then, Jimmy felt terrible when the relaxed expression on Thom's face was replaced by the usual strain. "Sorry, Thom."

A pained smile. "Can't ignore it, I guess. It's too much a part of everything that's going on."

"Yeah. I'll drop you off before I take Michelle home."

Now, the pained smile turned mischievous. "I'm sure."

Jimmy blushed...as did Michelle. Jimmy cleared his throat. "Anyway...uh...let's go!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thom walked into Tim's apartment and felt the pressure of that other life settle in on him again. It had been so nice to forget about it for awhile...and it had been so nice for Jimmy to _allow_ him the chance to forget for awhile. It kept it all at arm's length...but not forever. It couldn't do it forever.

Tim's phone rang and Thom picked it up, wondering briefly what he was supposed to do with it. Then, instinct kicked in and he looked at the display for who was calling. _Ziva_. Thom didn't want to talk to anyone in Tim's life. He ignored the phone. Instead, he went into the bedroom, kicked off his shoes and went to sleep still wearing Tim's clothes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Hello?" Thom looked around the room, still crammed with machinery. No one was there. "Hello? Tim?"_

_Then, there he was, but seeming...different._

"_You did pretty good today," Tim said, pulling out a set of schematics and rewiring the mess in front of him._

"_How much do you see?"_

"_As much as you let me see. I saw a lot of the machine today."_

"_Dinner with Jimmy?"_

"_None of that. You know, you really can trust everyone. They're good people."_

"_They care about you...not me."_

"_That's not true, Thom." Tim disappeared for a moment and then reappeared, looking out-of-sorts. "They just have known me longer."_

"_Tim...they want you back. All of them do, even Jimmy although he's nicer about it. They don't want me."_

"_You know that's not what it is, Thom. This is about them trying to 'rescue' me, not reject you."_

"_The end result is the same."_

"_I know." Tim sighed. "I can't seem to concentrate on this tonight, Thom. You'll have to feel your way through a bit more tomorrow."_

"_What?"_

"_I'm helping you with the rewiring as much as I can, but I just can't keep my mind on it."_

_Thom looked around the room and the walls were fading away to reveal the beach where they had often talked._

"_What's going on?"_

_Tim looked around. "I don't know. You should look at the stars, Thom. You can now."_

"_Tim!" _

_Tim faded away._

"_Tim!"_

_Thom turned around and around. That had never happened before._

"Tim!" Thom sat up looking around the empty apartment. "Where are you?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Meaning in Chaos**

Thom couldn't go back to sleep. He couldn't because he was afraid, afraid that when he dreamed, he would be back in the empty room...and Tim wouldn't be there. What if Tim was gone? What would everyone say? What would Jimmy and Michelle say? Would they be as nice to him if Tim wasn't there?

He paced back and forth across the bedroom. He needed to tell someone, someone who could help him...or maybe just make him feel better...but how could he do that when he didn't trust any of them? Thom sat down and began to go through the people he knew at NCIS...it seemed as though Tim had a very narrow circle of friends and they were the only ones who came up as possibilities. ...and neither of them had family.

Gibbs...no. Thom rejected him on instinct, even though he kind of thought that Tim would have approved him on instinct. Gibbs reminded him too much of...Thom forced the memory away. That was one person he didn't have to think about. He'd never see him again. A feeling of satisfaction combined with intense guilt accompanied that thought...and then, there was another flash of Tim's memory.

_He stood at the graveside, watching as the dual coffins were lowered into the holes. Sarah stood beside him, crying._

"No!" Thom said aloud. "That didn't happen!" Still, the realization that Tim had lost both his parents at the same time...like he had...it was a sobering thought because he knew that it had been done intentionally. Although the circumstances were different, the feeling of loss was similar. Not the same because Tim had been older and able to...Thom tried not to think of Lizzie and that loss. He turned his mind back to his list.

Tony...again, no. Even Tim would have been hesitant about bringing this up to Tony. Memories of practical jokes, teasing, condescension, and general rudeness made it hard for Thom to understand why in the world Tim thought of Tony as anything other than an arrogant jerk. Just because there were a couple of moments of humanity in him didn't excuse all the other moments. Even the King of the Alleys had... Again, no. That memory shouldn't be examined.

Ziva...maybe. Thom hesitated...as Tim would have but in a different way. Ziva had proved herself trustworthy many times over. She occasionally teased but usually was much kinder than Tony, if harder and less open. Even so...no. Trustworthy as she might have been to _Tim_, she had looked at him in the same way as everyone else.

Abby...no. No. No. No. Tim, again, trusted her implicitly...and more. Thom could feel that there was a lot more to the relationship than just trust and friendship. It filled him with guilt that he had taken Tim away from something so powerful that even a vague memory of it had the power to make him blush. Besides that, she had been one who insisted on hiding the machine from him. Like Gibbs, she had lied. And that was worse because Gibbs was just a boss. Abby was Tim's girlfriend. She shouldn't have lied...and she cared too much about Tim for him to trust her.

He rejected Jimmy...and Michelle for personal reasons. He didn't want to lose the first friends he'd had in years. He didn't want to see their faces change and look at him with only concern for Tim. He wanted someone worried about _him_.

Ducky. At first, Thom was going to reject him as he had everyone else. He was a part of the lies, but he had also protected Jimmy. He was...older. He wasn't a policeman. He wasn't even a doctor. He was an ME...he worked with dead bodies, which bothered Thom a little, but maybe he could help. He also, from what Tim thought, seemed to be very smart and to know quite a bit. Thom nodded to himself and dialed without thinking about the fact that it was five-thirty a.m. and he was calling someone he knew only by sight...and by someone else's memories.

The phone rang...and rang...and rang. Thom was about to give up when there was a yawning "hello".

"D-Dr. Mallard? Ducky?" Thom asked, now afraid of asking for help.

"_Timothy?"_

Thom winced and almost disconnected.

"_Wait, Thom. Sorry, forgive me, I was half asleep. Is something wrong?"_

Thom opened his mouth to talk, but then, he started to cry. It just wasn't fair. None of it. It wasn't fair that Tim was the one people thought of first. It wasn't fair that he was the one who was out of place. It wasn't fair that...

"_Thom, what's wrong, lad?"_

The concern was so...nice...but it wasn't for him, not really...and if Tim disappeared, they would look at him as a usurper, someone who had killed their friend and taken his place. ...and then, where would he go? No one wanted him. No one cared about him.

It was useless. Thom hung up without saying a word, although he heard Ducky trying to speak to him. If Tim was really gone, then he had no one. He needed to know if Tim was gone. He _needed_ to. Thom went back into the bedroom with the intention of sleeping but he didn't want to sleep in this place, saturated as it was with Tim's memories. He needed somewhere else to sleep. So...he put back on his shoes, grabbed Tim's bag and left the apartment. There was no car for him to drive, and so he jogged to the nearest Metro station. Tim knew where it was. This was Tim's neighborhood after all. He was able to get on a bus and ride, knowing which stops to watch for, where to get off. When he got to the Yard, he was able to go through the process to be admitted.

Tim's memories were still there...but what about Tim himself? The phone rang again, but Thom didn't answer it. He felt no obligation to, although he knew that Tim would have. Just before he got to the building, Thom decided he didn't want to go inside. He knew what was waiting for him in there...and for the moment, he wanted no part of it. Instead, he walked to the park. He was used to sleeping outside...although his body didn't feel like it was so used to that anymore. He sat down on a bench in Willard Park and drew his knees to his chest, resting his head on them. His head felt weighted down by so many memories...memories of events that hadn't happened. Tim's memories.

Did Tim feel this way? Jimmy said not, but he had also said that Tim didn't talk about it. Thom knew that there was a way to deal with it...by forgetting. Tim hadn't done that. Somehow, he had simply managed to incorporate Thom's memories into his own...but he didn't know how. What if he _was_ killing Tim by insisting on remembering his own past rather than Tim's?

It was too much to think about and Thom didn't want to. This was too complicated for him. He'd gotten used to being in Tim's head, and now, being the one in control was almost too much to manage. Maybe someday...but he wouldn't have the someday.

"Thom?"

Thom, after a moment of terror, recognized the voice. It was Ducky. He didn't move. It was easier to let the voices pass by without acknowledging them. That was better than looking up for help, for reassurance only to be rejected. He was surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Automatically, he flinched away from the physical contact...and the hand withdrew.

"Thom, why did you call me?"

Thom still didn't answer. Why bother?

"Thom, answer me, please."

Thom didn't _want_ to answer, even as a part of him yearned for the kind of interaction that would prove he did belong to the human race, that he wasn't a phantom, forgotten and ignored by everyone. The one time he had allowed it, his life had ended.

"Please, Thom, why did you call me?"

"You only care about Tim," Thom whispered. "Don't pretend to care about me. Don't act like I matter."

He heard a long sigh. "Oh, Thom. It's much worse than that. We do care about you. You _do_ matter, but we also care about Timothy...and we cannot give up hope of getting him back. The tragedy is that only one of you can live. One of you must be denied a happy ending."

"And you want it to be Tim."

"What I _want_, Thom, is something impossible. I want you both to be happy...but I will not deny that I hope Timothy can come back. Now, why did you call me?"

Ducky reminded him of someone. Who was it?

Again, the hand approached and this time, Thom didn't flinch from Ducky's touch although he stiffened. It had been so long since someone had touched him with kindness rather than malice.

"Thom, it may be difficult for you to believe, but I do care about _you_, not just Timothy."

"I think Tim's dying," Thom said.

"What do you mean?"

"He disappeared from my dream."

"That was just a dream."

"No." Thom finally looked up and stared into Ducky's eyes. He saw the worry there, the kindness. "No, they're not just dreams. Tim never told you, did he."

"I'm afraid not."

Thom hesitated. Perhaps Tim had a good reason for _not_ telling about their contact.

"What is it, Thom?"

"We talk...in our dreams. We have since...since Tim found out about me...ever since Tanner...woke me up."

"You _talk_?"

"Yes. We can't do it while we're awake, but we do it when we're asleep. I don't know how and I don't know why, but...Tim disappeared. He faded away, and I'm afraid...I'm afraid that...that me...being here, in charge. I'm afraid I'm killing him." Thom automatically moved away from Ducky's hand which was still on his shoulder, afraid also that Ducky would reject him...now that he knew what Thom was doing to his friend.

"He's never faded away before?"

"No. He seemed different, too. He hates being there."

"Where _is_ there?"

Thom thought about telling him of the water but disregarded that idea. It was hard enough talking about the dreams.

"In my...his...our head. We talk about things. He says I can trust you."

"He is right."

"But you want him back."

"Yes, that's true."

Thom looked at Ducky with a jaded stare. "Then, how can I trust you when you want me gone?"

To his surprise, Ducky didn't seem offended, merely sad. "I can't answer that, lad. Everything that happens in this world is so out of our realm of experience that we, like you, are floundering to find our place within it...but we will not harm you."

"People have told me that before."

"Yes, I'm sure they have."

"Why is that you think you're different than them?" Thom said, feeling angry. "People say they care and then they do what they want. They say that they're doing what's best and then..." His eyes filled with tears. "...then, they make you look at what is left...left of...your mom and dad." He wiped away the tears and looked away. "They say they're going to help you and then take away your family. They say that...they'll help you live and then they take everything else." The tears came too quickly. "Why should you be any different?"

"Oh, Thom." Ducky reached out again, but Thom backed away, his legs dropping to the ground.

"They always act like they care...until they have the chance to take it all away."

"You may have no reason to trust us, but I give you my word that we will not do that."

"No, you'll only take away my life."

"You said that you wanted to give it back to Timothy."

Thom stood up, full of impotent fury, full of rage at the injustice of it all. "That doesn't matter! What _I_ will do has nothing to do with what _you'll_ do to me! I won't let them take it from me again. I won't let them...destroy me again. I don't want to die, Ducky!" Thom's voice cracked. "I don't want to die. Why do I have to die? Why was _my _life destroyed? Why did my parents die? Why did they take Lizzie? Why did they take my life?" He stood there trembling...but his eyes were dry now. "Why is the only choice that I die so that Tim can live again? Why can't we both live? Why can't this never have happened?"

Ducky stood up as well. "I wish, with all my heart, that I could take away this torture, Thom. I wish that there was some other way for you to live...and for Timothy to live."

Thom looked around at the familiar/unfamiliar sights and sighed. "I'm already dead, Ducky. That's the worst thing. I'm walking around, but I'm already dead." He turned and walked away, leaving Ducky behind to watch his receding figure.

Ducky sank back to the bench, full of sorrow for the broken young man...and he was _so_ much younger than Tim was. He knew things that Tim knew, but he hadn't really _experienced_ those things. He was twenty years old...a traumatized young man who had both lived and not lived for over decade. It really _wasn't_ fair...and Ducky had the sudden insight that even if Tim _had_ died, a thought which gave him a pang of grief, Thom would never really live, not in this world, not at this time, not with the past he had experienced. It was a lose-lose situation. Nothing could make Thom's life better...not that Ducky could see anyway.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thom worked alone for the first few hours of the day. No one came down. Abby and Jimmy were both working at their real jobs. Thom didn't mind. His conversation with Ducky had done nothing to make him feel any better. Instead, he tried to rewire the machine...but it was harder than it had been the day before. He was afraid of that. Finally, he decided to take a break, but he didn't want to talk to anyone in the bullpen. He didn't want to see Tim's close friends. Without really thinking, he headed to Legal. Michelle was nice and she might have a minute to talk.

He stepped off the elevator and saw a man standing much too close to Michelle. She looked frightened...and no one else was around. A feeling of anger that...that wasn't coming from him surged up and suddenly, Thom got a taste of what it felt like to have someone else in control of the body while he was still conscious. He strode down the hall with a strangely-focused anger and tapped the man on the shoulder. Thom wanted to run and hide, but...but _Tim_ would not allow his Probie to be intimidated.

"Can I help you, sir?" Thom found himself asking. The tone was both polite and threatening.

The man turned and there was something in his eyes that scared both personalities. Thom wanted to shrink away, but Tim had been trained by Gibbs and he held his ground. The man stared at him.

"What makes you think you can help?" he asked in a low voice.

"Special Agent...Thom...McGee," Thom said, trying to regain control of himself. "I work here. If you're in need of..."

The man stepped too close and Thom was fighting against Tim's refusal to back down. Finally, the man sneered and walked away...and Tim's control faded. There had been no conscious thought, but that Tim was inside him made Thom both elated and terrified. That was a horrible feeling, being at the mercy of someone else. He barely heard Michelle.

"Oh, Thom...thank you," she said, trembling. "He was here about that stupid will. I really thought he might have...done _something_ if you hadn't come by." Then, she seemed to notice that Thom was having trouble of his own. "Thom, are you all right?"

"That...that...wasn't me," Thom stammered. "It was like I-I-I w-watched it happen." He was shaking almost as much as Michelle was.

Michelle now turned comforter. "That happened to Tim sometimes, too. It's something you just have to get used to."

She was trying to be nice about it, but it gave Thom a whole new level of horror at what Tim suffered in the cause of allowing Thom space.

"Thom, thank you. Even if it was Tim. You were still there and you had to face him, too."

"You...You're welcome, Michelle."

"Was there something you needed from me?"

"Just...I...didn't want to..." Thom shrugged. "Everyone's busy."

Michelle smiled. "Unfortunately, so am I for another hour. Tell you what. I don't want to eat lunch alone...particularly not now. Come back up here in an hour and we can get something to eat together."

"Really? You'd do that?" Thom asked.

Michelle nodded and smiled. "Of course. I could scarcely do anything else. You helped me out here and I always repay. Besides, Jimmy's busy."

"Okay. In an hour, then. Will...will you be okay?"

"Yeah. Will you?"

Thom almost was honest and said no...but at the last minute he changed his mind. "Yeah. I will."

"Good. Thank you again."

"You should report him."

"Oh, you'd better believe I will," Michelle said in a determined voice. "See you in an hour."

"Yeah."

Thom went back down to the evidence locker to work on the machine. When he looked at the wiring...it was easier to see what needed to be done.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Threats from Without**

He was furious about being discovered. That stupid SEAL! His _honor_ could ruin everything. Once that will was released... He had to stop that from happening. He settled down to wait. There would an opportunity. He just had to be patient. Patience always paid back in the end. Just like in his sniper days...but then, those days hadn't ever _really_ ended, had they...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Tim, you're back!" Thom exclaimed with relief. He was back in the little room full of machinery. Tim was there...but he still didn't look right._

"_There's something wrong, Thom," Tim said. He wasn't working, merely sitting listlessly, staring at the wiring in front of him. "I almost couldn't come."_

"_But you were back! I felt you back. You even took over!"_

"_I was mad. That's different. You should realize that by now," he said. "Extreme emotions are the things that make control possible."_

"_Tim...I'm sorry."_

"_For what?"_

"_Everything I've done to you...I didn't know."_

_Tim smiled tiredly. "I didn't either. That's not your fault. It's not your fault that this happened to us...that there even _is_ an us...which there shouldn't be. It's not right for two people to be living in one body."_

_Thom knew that was true. He stepped closer to the barrier. "Why are we separated? We never were before."_

"_I don't know." Tim took a deep breath, seemed to waver a bit and then stood up and began to work. "You made some good progress but you shouldn't slack off. There's still a man's life at stake."_

"_What about you?"_

_Tim tried to work but the soldering tool slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor._

"_I don't know how to come back. I don't know how I did it today. I only know that I was suddenly seeing...and then...once the man walked away, I faded." Tim looked at Thom and for the first time, showed his own fear. "I don't know if I _can_ come back, Thom. It might be that because you're in control now, that's how it will always be. It is your body, after all."_

"_No, Tim! I don't _want_ to be back! I can't be. You already know that...it can't happen. It won't. I won't let you die!"_

_Tim laughed sadly. "Can a made-up person really die?"_

"_You're not made-up!"_

"_Yes, I am, Thom. Let's get that straight right now. I am. I was created, not born. I hate that it's the case but it's true. _You_ were born into this body. I was imagined, sprung fully-formed from the head of Zeus."_

"_Tim, don't talk like that. We'll just get the machine fixed and bring you back! We have to!" Thom felt a little hysterical. "I don't want to live here."_

_Tim reached out to Thom but the stretch of machinery was too wide and they couldn't touch. He sighed and then picked up the soldering tool again and went back to work._

"Thom? Thom? Are you all right?"

"_They're asking for you," Tim said without looking up. "You should wake up."_

"_I don't want to wake up. I don't know how to...to live."_

"Thom!"

"_You'll figure it out."_

Thom opened his eyes and immediately pulled away from the presence he sensed near him.

"Whoa! It's just me! Abby!" Abby was standing there with her hands in the air. "It's late and you're obviously tired, Thom. You should go home."

"I can't go home. My home burned down," Thom said.

"Tim's home, then. I don't like the idea of you sleeping here."

"Why not? Tim did."

"I didn't like that either."

Thom felt annoyed and it must have showed on his face because Abby drew back a bit.

"Why are you mad at me, Thom? What have I done to you?"

"You lied," Thom said, trying to sound calm.

"To you?"

"To Tim. You lied to him for over a month! How could you do that? How could you lie? Aren't you two..." He floundered a bit. "...going out?"

"...sort of."

"What does _that_ mean?"

Abby was obviously uncomfortable at the prospect of having a conversation about Tim with someone who _should_ be Tim and wasn't.

"It means that it's complicated. Sometimes, you do things that are complicated when you're in a relationship. It's not about lying. It's about protecting."

Thom stared at her. How could she not understand what the problem was? How could she dismiss it so easily? He turned away, back to the machine he so hated.

"I have work to do," he said. "I have to fix this...and kill myself."

"Thom...we don't like this either."

"Please, don't patronize me," he said. "I don't need it or want it. Just because I'm miserable doesn't mean that I'm begging for you to feel bad about it. I know that you want Tim back. I want him to come back, too. I don't want to be here."

Abby looked at him for a few more seconds. "You don't trust us, do you?"

"Would you in my place?" Thom shot back. "Leave me alone. I have work to do." He looked at the machine and felt tears in his eyes, blurring the soldering tool in his hands.

"Thom."

"Leave me alone," he said again.

Remembering what Tim had been doing, Thom focused on the connections he could see in his mind's eye. He needed to get this done; so...so what?

_So I can die again._

He became aware, after a few minutes, that Abby had not left. She was just standing behind him, silent. He knew, from Tim's memories, that this was not normal Abby behavior.

"Abby, please, go away."

"If that's what you want, Thom."

"Please."

"All right."

He heard the footsteps walking away and felt a faint disappointment...that didn't come from him.

_Tim?_ he thought. There was no response.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's still in there, isn't he," Michelle said, looking back at NCIS.

"Yeah. Working on that machine. Tim wasn't this obsessed."

"Tim belonged here. Thom doesn't. He wants to leave."

There wasn't much to say to that.

"...but that doesn't mean we should treat him like an unwanted visitor while he's here." Michelle sighed. "I'm going to wait for him."

Jimmy hesitated. "Then, I'll wait with you."

"You don't have to, Jimmy."

"I know. That doesn't mean I'm not going to." He grinned and sat down on a bench. Michelle stared at him for a moment longer and he patted the empty space next to him. "Have a seat."

She laughed and smiled as she sat beside him. "I don't like this, Jimmy. There's no way this story is going to end well. We either get McGee back and lose Thom or have Thom permanently and lose McGee...forever. Either way..."

"It stinks."

"Yeah."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thom stared at the machine. He'd made progress, but not enough...and Tim was giving him less and less help as the hours went by. ...and that frightened him, gave him more anxiety than he had ever felt on the streets of New York. Finally, he set down the soldering tool and gave up for the day. Following the procedures Tim knew by heart, Thom put away everything, shut down the lights, closed the evidence garage. He could do it all, but it wasn't because of anything _he_ knew. It was because of what Tim knew. He sighed and left.

No one was around when he reached the bullpen which both saddened and relieved him. He was able to walk through and down and out of the building. He was surprised to see Jimmy and Michelle sitting on a bench. The sight of them lifted his heart more than he thought possible.

Michelle saw him and waved.

"Hey, Thom! Come over and join us!"

Thom approached with the old familiar feelings of uncertainty gripping him.

"Isn't three a crowd?"

"Not when we were waiting for you!"

"You were waiting for...me?"

Jimmy smiled and nodded. "Yeah, come and join us...unless you have other plans."

Thom shook his head and walked over to the bench. Stars, dim though they were in the middle of the city, sparkled overhead. He looked up at them and smiled a little.

"What did you want to be, Thom?" Michelle asked, following his gaze upward.

"What?"

"When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

Thom dropped his gaze to his hands. They were so...so clean, so soft. "What does it matter? As soon as we get the machine working, I'll be gone again. Why bother?"

Jimmy beat Michelle to the answer. "Because we know you now. You deserve to be remembered, especially because of what you're giving up for Tim."

"It's not...not completely for Tim. I'm doing it for me, too."

"Even so," Michelle said, firmly, "this is a hard thing everyone is asking of you, to be the instrument of your own demise. ...but really, I just want to know. You always look up when you come outside."

Thom looked up again. "I wanted to be an astronomer," he said softly. For a moment, he was...was himself again, completely Thom. His eyes lit up with recollection of happier times, happier memories. "I remember the first time I ever looked through a telescope and realized how much there was to see up there. I wanted to see it, to see it all. There was so much to know, so much to learn. Astronomy is all about learning from a distance. We can't handle anything in astronomy. It's all so far away that...that we'll never touch it, never see it with our own eyes...but it's there. I read books, but I also would sit outside in the backyard, just looking up. It was...It was like being...being there sometimes. I could lay on the grass and almost feel myself floating up into the stars. I wanted to go up in the space shuttle and see the stars without an atmosphere in the way...to float in space and see...see it all up close." He laughed. "Even though it wouldn't really be much closer. That's what I wanted." His smile faded slowly away...but not completely, even as reality set in again, it didn't completely disappear. "That's what I wanted."

Michelle put a sympathetic hand on his arm...and for once, Thom looked about the age Tim was, not like a twenty-year-old. Tentatively, he touched her hand, covering it with his own.

"We don't get what we want," he said finally.

Jimmy looked away, wishing he could think of something he could say, something he could _do_ to make Thom feel better. His eyes alit on a possibility and it made him smile.

"Hey, Thom...do you know how to drive?"

"What?"

"Do you know how to drive?"

"Um...sorta. I was...learning. Tim knows."

"Yeah, but if you drive, you should know yourself."

"Why would I drive?"

"So that you could drive Tim's car," Jimmy said, grinning.

"I couldn't...I couldn't do that...could I?"

"Sure you could," Michelle said, smiling, too. "You have a valid driver's license."

"But...it's Tim's."

"No one will know that except you...and us."

"You want to?" Jimmy asked.

"Um...okay."

Jimmy jumped up and led Thom to Tim's car.

"Wow. That's a nice car," Thom said, his eyes wide. "What if I wreck it?"

"You won't."

"Try it," Michelle urged.

"Maybe...just...just once...around the parking lot."

Jimmy smiled and watched as Thom got behind the wheel. He seemed so nervously eager to try it. The broad smile on his face when he turned the key and started the engine made the suggestion completely worth it. He backed out of the space and began to drive, gradually picking up speed (although not breaking the speed limit).

"Do you think this was a good idea?" Michelle asked.

Jimmy was solemn. "How much time does he have to have fun? ...even if he wrecks it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was another witness to the fun. He was taking note of these people and their relationship. It was the best way. When a quick shot to the head wasn't enough, ransom was the next best thing. He smiled and walked away to begin making his plans.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Revealed Hidden Knowledge**

"_Tim?" Thom looked around. The room was there, but Tim wasn't. "Tim! Tim, please!"_

_He was there._

"_Thom, this isn't going to work, you know."_

"_What do you mean it's not going to work? It has to! I want to..."_

"_What do you want, Thom? Really," Tim asked. He dropped his gaze from Thom's face to the machinery separating them. "You don't really want to die again. What you want is to be able to live again. I don't blame you for that, but do you really think that you'll be able to give up this life if you don't want to?"_

"_I do want to, Tim. This isn't my life. There's no way of getting my life back. My life is gone. Even Lizzie...even..."_

"_Lizzie would love you, you know. She would. There's no way she couldn't. Oh, it might take some time to adjust to the idea, but she'd love you because you're family. More than I am. My only real family is Sarah...and she's gone...maybe forever."_

"_No, Tim! No...I..." Thom trailed off as he realized that Tim was right. If he thought there was a possibility, he would choose to live. He knew that there wasn't though._

_Tim wavered again, put a hand to his head._

"_Tim, please, don't leave me alone here."_

_Tim smiled tiredly. "I'll try...Thom."_

"_If you can't stay for me, stay for that other guy! Stay and help me figure it out for him!"_

"_I'll try."_

"_No! You can't just try. You have do it!"_

_Tim actually chuckled. "Who are you? Yoda?"_

_Thom laughed, too...but he was afraid. "Don't leave me here, Tim. This is your life. It's not mine."_

_Tim looked at the machinery. He sighed and then picked up the soldering iron again._

"_Don't forget this, Thom. It's important."_

_Thom nodded...and watched._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Wow, Thom," Jimmy said in surprise. "You're almost done, aren't you? It looks like new."

Thom stretched and smiled a little. He'd been working on this for hours. "It's not. I'm still stuck with this section here." He pointed to the set of connections which were supposed to run to the base of the neck. "This stuff...it's so weird. I don't even get what it's doing."

"Then, how are you putting it back together?"

"Tim's telling me what to do."

"How?" Jimmy asked, curiously. He sat down and stared at the machine.

Thom shifted uncomfortably. "I don't really know how to explain it. I talk to him in my sleep...and when I'm awake, he helps me out...sometimes."

"Wow. That's kind of cool."

"It's...weird."

"I'm sure." Jimmy looked at his watch. "Hey, you want to come with Michelle and I to get some lunch?"

Thom did, but he didn't at the same time. "No. I think...I think I'll stick around here. There's more that I know how to do. I don't want to forget it."

"Thom, there can be more than this."

"No, there can't," Thom said, looking back at the machine. "Not if Tim is coming back. The more time I spend doing real things, forming real connections...the harder it is for him to survive." Thom didn't know where that certainty came from, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were true. ...and then, he realized that they were coming from Tim. _Tim_ had known that but hadn't warned him of the risks. Tim had been willing to risk his own destruction.

Jimmy put a hand on his shoulder, and for the first time, Thom felt no inclination to shy away.

"I'm so sorry, Thom."

Thom couldn't look at him.

"So am I."

Jimmy got up and left. Thom only looked up when he was sure he was gone.

_Tim, why didn't you let me know? Why didn't you tell me about that?_

No response, of course. There never was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He's not coming with us," Jimmy said to Abby. She'd been waiting by the elevator for a report. "Maybe you could go down and try to..."

"He doesn't like me," Abby said. "I don't know why, but he doesn't."

"It's not that he doesn't like you...but he...well..." Jimmy stumbled over trying to explain something he didn't understand himself. "You could still try."

"Here, I'll go down. I haven't talked to him at all really...and I should," Tony said.

Abby laughed at him. "Are you going to be sensitive, Tony?"

"No...are you crazy?" Tony asked. "I'm not sensitive, but I should try and let him see that he's not a leper."

Abby patted him on the shoulder. "That's very sweet, Tony."

Tony rolled his eyes. "You can come down and repair the damage later." He got on the elevator and headed down to the evidence garage.

"Well...I'm going to lunch," Jimmy said in the awkward silence that followed.

Abby smiled. "Don't worry, Jimmy. We won't eat him."

"Good. I think..." Jimmy headed out, met Michelle in the parking lot and they walked to get something to eat.

Their observer followed them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The elevator dinged open.

"Hey, Thom E!" Tony said with a forcedly jovial tone.

Thom jumped and looked at Tony with anything but good humor.

"What?"

"Thom E! Gemcity has too many syllables, but Thom has too few. So I have to call you something else."

"Why?"

"Because...just because. That's how it has to be."

"Why?"

"You'd...probably have to know me to understand. Do you mind?"

Thom shrugged and went back to work. "I've been called worse."

"Uh...right."

"Do you need something?"

"I was going to ask you that."

"You an expert on electronics?"

"No."

"Then, I don't need anything you can give."

Tony winced. Not even on his worst days had Tim sounded so cold.

"How about some company?"

"Why would I need that?"

"Do you _like_ sitting here alone with that thing?"

Thom looked up at him. "Are you trying to say that you'd be good company?"

"Better than nothing, Pr... Thom."

He looked back down. "You enjoy being a spectator watching someone killing himself?"

He didn't know why, but that was the moment when Tony really saw the person sitting in front of him as Thom and not just Tim acting strangely. He sat down across the machine.

"Hey, Thom, I know you don't trust me. I don't blame you. I probably wouldn't trust me either, but...well...even when I'm joking around...you can trust me."

The soldering iron shook in Thom's hand. He set it down and sighed. He didn't look up.

"Tony...I do understand that you're trying to be nice, that you're trying to be supportive and all...but... You're trying to make me feel better. If I feel better, Tim might never come back. Is that what you want? Do you really want to be stuck with me for the rest of my life?"

"No. I'll be honest. I do want McGee back, but... I hate that you think you have to be miserable while you're here."

Thom shook his head. "I do have to be miserable. The times when I'm happy...Tim slides further away and it's harder to get him back. I don't want him to die for me. So...you can't help. It's better if you just leave me alone."

"Did you ever have a chance to really live, Thom?"

"Not for half my life. Because I really died when my parents did. I just didn't realize it...and I kept breathing." Thom looked up and Tony was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "I wish I hadn't. I was gone anyway."

Tony actually felt his own throat tighten. Maybe it was because, no matter that he knew it wasn't Tim talking, it still _looked_ like Tim talking and he couldn't stand the idea of Tim feeling like he'd died without physically dying.

"Hey, Thom...is there one thing that you wish you could do before...this gets fixed?"

Thom laughed briefly and looked at the wires. "Sometimes, I want to pull out all the work I've done and pretend it didn't happen." Then, he was quiet for a long moment.

Tony waited, hoping that an answer was forthcoming.

"I would love to really see the stars again. I haven't had a chance to look at them. There are too many lights around here. I can't see the sky very clearly. I always loved astronomy." A wistful smile crossed his face and then he went back to work.

Tony took the hint and slipped away. That was something he could help with. Even if Thom was right about having to be miserable, surely one moment of happiness wouldn't ruin everything. ...and it was horrible to see a human being write himself off so thoroughly...and to know that it was going to happen.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He couldn't take them right now. Now would have too many witnesses. Night was the time to do what was necessary. He smiled. He had tried being obvious...now he could use the training he'd been given and get what he deserved for years of service.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: A Moment of Joy...**

Thom slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_You lied to me, Tim!"_

"_No, I didn't. I just didn't tell you everything."_

_Thom walked all the way to the wall separating him from Tim and glared._

"_I don't want you to disappear because you're going to be a martyr!"_

"_That's what you are, Thom. You're the real person, the real McCoy. You always have been...just because I didn't know about it..."_

"_Tim, you're real! You are!"_

_Tim shook his head sadly. "No, I'm not. Thom, I'm not. I'm not a real person. I'm a creation. You know that. I know that. We all know it. I'm not real."_

_Thom reached out across the divide. For once, he felt the older and more experienced of the two of them._

"_It doesn't matter that someone created you. Someone created me. It just happened to be my parents, not some guy with a machine. We're all creations, Tim. What happened to us isn't fair. ...but you don't have to pay for it."_

"_And you do?"_

"_I've already paid the price. Can't change that."_

_Thom stretched. Tim looked at his hand. _

"_You don't have to be miserable, Thom. Don't give up the chance you have to...to see something beautiful."_

"_I won't let you die."_

_Tim reached out his hand. They still couldn't touch but they were close._

"_I won't. I promise. I'll still be here. Try and be happy."_

_Then, he withdrew his hand and picked up the soldering iron again._

"_I think I might see what the problem is with the wiring in this section." He bent over it and began to work._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thom woke up and felt more ideas flooding into his mind. He really was amazed at what Tim could do. He didn't know much about electronics. It hadn't interested him as much as astronomy had, but this stuff that Tim was doing. It was really cool. He was feeling his way through the structure of the machine based on what it could do and what he had seen of its operation. ...and it was working! Thom knew that he'd have the machine finished soon. He was both happy and sad about that. He tried not to think about himself and to focus...not on Tim but on the innocent figure in all this: the man in the hospital. He had no identity that they knew of, but he could still be in there, trapped as Thom as had been but without a personality laid over him...a personality like Tim.

_It's all right to want to live..._

The thought arose out of the miasma of his mind...and he knew it was Tim saying it...but that thought swung both ways. Both of them could want to live even if, in the end, only one could have that chance.

The elevator dinged behind him and while he jumped a little bit, that was all. He didn't bother turning around.

"Thom E!"

That was Tony's voice.

"What?" Thom asked, wary now.

"Okay, look, I know we went through this before about you not trusting me and stuff, but would you listen to me for just a minute?"

Thom thought about it, put down the soldering iron and turned around to face Tony. He wasn't quite as frightening as he'd been imagining he was.

"What?"

"Would you trust me...enough to come with me for a while?"

"Where? And why?"

"It's a surprise...and because I want to."

Thom looked at Tony, his own instinctive distrust warring with Tim's equally instinctive trust in Tony when he acted like this. Sincerity was a hard thing to get from Tony...and when he _was_ sincere, he could be trusted all the way.

"Please?"

Thom sighed. "Okay."

"Excellent! Come on!"

Tony acted like a little kid on Christmas Day and Thom tried not to roll his eyes at Tony's antics. He followed him out of the building and to the Porsche.

"Do you want to drive or should I?" Tony asked, dangling the keys.

"Um...I don't have a driver's license."

"Tim does and since you look like him...or he looks like you...it belongs to both of you."

"I don't know where we're going," Thom pointed out.

"True enough. Okay, I'll drive. I don't get to drive the Porsche very often." He got in the car and Thom got in on the other side.

As they pulled off the Yard, Thom wondered where they were going and why.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They drove for about an hour in silence. Tony looked over at Thom every so often but made no effort at conversation. This wasn't really the time for it. Besides, what could he say?

_Oh, I'm sorry that you've been kind of dead for years and now you're alive but are going to sort of die again?_

Yeah, that was just stupid...but they were almost there. The turnoff was coming up on the right.

"Here we are," he announced.

"Where is here?"

"Our destination."

"And what is that?"

"I'll show you...and you can show _me_ a few things."

Thom's eyes opened wide and he was afraid. Tony realized how that must have sounded.

"Okay...that came out wrong. Whatever you're thinking, Thom, that's not what it is."

The fear didn't dissipate as Tony pulled the car to a stop.

"Thom E, I promise. I wouldn't lie. I have no intention of doing anything to you at all."

Thom nodded without speaking and got out of the car, looking around as he did so. Tony mentally kicked himself for being so thoughtless.

"You know...I'd never mistake you for McGee now."

Thom turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...McGee would know exactly why I was bringing you up here. He wouldn't even half expect something to be wrong."

"He trusts you," Thom said.

Tony was unexpectedly touched by the simple statement. He remember when Thom had first made himself known. He had said that Tim trusted Ziva but he hadn't said that about Tony.

"He does?"

"Yeah. Tim knows when you're sincere. ...and right now, you are. He trusts you when it matters."

"Well...he's right. I am sincere. Come on."

Tony began walking. It wasn't far, just a little ways into the trees, away from the road. An abrupt clearing and wide vista...of the perfect night sky. Then, he saw something else that told him he was looking at Thom not at Tim. Thom stopped and was entranced by what he saw. Tim would have been interested, would have enjoyed it...but Thom was enthralled. He was taking in a sight he hadn't seen in years. He was seeing the stars and it touched something deep inside him.

"Wow," he whispered.

Tony smiled. That was the reaction he'd hoped for. Maybe it was a bit selfish of him, but Tim would still look like this sometimes. He wanted to see Tim's face without the distrust, without the fear and anxiety that ruled him.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?"

"Yeah. The stars don't cost anything to look at. See...now, McGee would have been suspicious right away. He would have known what I was doing from the moment I asked what you wanted most. ...but I'm glad I could surprise you."

Thom walked forward further into the clearing.

"So...Thom E..."

"What?"

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me what it is that you see up there. I don't know anything except for the stuff I faked my way through in intro to physics."

Thom wasn't looking away from the sky...and his voice changed. It became...younger, and yet more like Tim's voice at the same time.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything."

Even though it was dark, Tony's eyes were adjusting and he could see Thom's face...and he was smiling. There was no conflict right now.

"Okay," he said, almost breathless. "We'll...We'll go on a tour of the stars. We'll start with the Big Dipper. Everyone knows that one."

Tony smiled and nodded.

"Okay, yeah, I know it, but where is it?"

Thom actually grabbed his arm and turned him in the appropriate direction and pointed to a spot near the horizon.

"There. Ursa Major, the Big Bear, better known by the aphorism the Big Dipper. If you follow the line created by the end stars in the cup, it will lead you to Polaris, the North Star...which is also the end of the handle of the Little Dipper. Ursa Minor, the Little Bear."

Tony smiled.

"Okay, I'm with you so far. Tell me more."

Thom was more than happy to oblige. It was a moment of transcendent joy.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy opened the door of the restaurant and let Michelle walk out in front of him. She smiled at the gentlemanly gesture.

"We can walk side by side, Jimmy," Michelle said. "It doesn't have be you as my regal escort every time."

Jimmy grinned. "You deserve it. We can walk side by side after getting through the door."

She linked arms with him and they started off toward the public lot where Jimmy had parked. However, the lighthearted feeling couldn't last.

"It's not fair, Jimmy."

He knew what she meant. "No, it's not. ...but I can't see that there's anything we can do. One of them has to be dominant."

"I know. I know we're doing everything that we can...but..."

"It still sucks."

"Yeah." Michelle sighed and looked back over her shoulder and then quickly looked forward again. Her hand tightened on Jimmy's arm.

"What is it?"

"Someone's following us, I think. How far is it to your car?"

"Another block," Jimmy said, feeling his stomach clench with fear. "Are you sure someone's following us?"

"I think so. Jimmy, I think I know who it is."

"Who?"

"That guy who's been trying to get to the will we've been processing in Legal."

"The one who threatened you?"

"Yeah."

Jimmy swallowed. "Okay...I have my phone in my pocket. I'll dial for...help."

Michelle nodded and moved closer as Jimmy casually slid his hand into his pocket, feeling for his phone and beginning to dial.

Suddenly, there was a painful impact which thrust him forward. Michelle started to scream as Jimmy felt searing pain rush through his nervous system. His hand spasmed and he staggered a few steps before his legs refused to hold him up and he began to sink to the ground.

"Michelle..."

Jimmy began to tremble and his mind caught up to what had happened.

_Someone stabbed me...they threw a knife and stabbed me..._

Michelle was screaming his name but Jimmy couldn't stave off the darkness and he slumped to the ground, conscious only long enough to feel the added pain of someone yanking the knife out of his back. He added his scream to Michelle's and then passed out.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: ...Followed by Chaos**

Thom sat in Tim's apartment and looked around it. Tony had dropped him off and then solemnly promised to drive Tim's car back to NCIS and keep it safe. It had been...nice. He had almost forgotten how beautiful the stars could be. He loved the stars. He truly loved them. Nothing made him feel more alive, more at one with the world around him, than staring up at those twinkling lights so far away. For a moment, he really felt happy.

Then, he took off Tim's clothes, put on some pajamas and went to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy opened his eyes and felt the pain again, radiating from his back...just above the scapula on his right side.

"I'm not dead?" he whispered.

"No...no, you're not, Jimmy," Michelle whimpered beside him.

"Hmmm..." Jimmy analyzed that fact. "That's...kind of too bad."

Jimmy turned his head and then let it fall back as Michelle came into his view. He was lying on his side...on the floor.

"No...hospital?"

"No," Michelle said. She looked afraid but unhurt.

"What's...going on?"

"You two are my hostages," a cruel voice said from behind him.

Jimmy tried to turn toward the voice but winced as he pulled at his area of injury.

"Don't move, Jimmy," Michelle said in a low voice. "I only barely got the bleeding stopped." Her eyes looked away from him and toward their captor. "Can't you let him go? He doesn't know where we are!"

"He knows who I am...doesn't he."

"Please...he doesn't know anything!"

"Oh, no. An injured, possibly dying captive will make them more likely to do what I want. We wouldn't want this poor young man to die of his injuries...now _would_ we."

"If he dies...that's murder!"

"What's one more? The penalty for two murders is the same as for one."

Jimmy reached out and grabbed Michelle's hand. When she looked down at him, he widened his eyes.

_Don't bother,_ he mouthed at her.

She smiled a little but then looked back.

"Aren't you going to kill us anyway?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On how the people who help me react. If they give me a chance to get away, then no, I may not kill you. If they come in force...then, I have nothing to lose. Got that?"

Michelle nodded silently.

"Good. Now get your little agent friend on the phone."

"Who?"

"That Thom McGee who so gallantly came to your rescue before. Get him on the phone and let him know it's you. We have things to discuss."

Michelle looked at Jimmy who met her gaze with more than a little anxiety. How could they drag Thom into this? This man had no idea what he was asking...and how could Thom even know what to do? It was one thing to deal with a machine that never talked back or reacted...but another human being?

"Call him. If you get anyone else, I may take back my magnimous offer."

Jimmy watched as Michelle reached up and caught the phone thrown to her. She nearly fumbled the catch, her hands were shaking so much, but she nodded.

"I understand," she said and began to dial.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_They were on the beach...but with the machinery separating them as usual._

"_I'm glad you got to see the stars, Thom," Tim said, facing the ocean._

"_Did you see them, too?"_

"_No. I felt you see them, though. I'm glad you got to be happy."_

"_Are you aware?"_

"_Not always. Sometimes, not usually. It seems like strong emotions pull me here...no matter whose they are."_

_Thom noticed that Tim was very solid and he seemed calm and collected, which was different from the last few times._

"_You're different, Tim."_

"_You noticed."_

"_Yeah. What is it?"_

_Tim turned to look at him and his expression was both sad and excited._

"_I figured it out."_

"_The machine?"_

"_Yes. I know how to finish it. I know you don't want it to be done."_

"_I do! I really...do... I..."_

_Tim smiled. "No, Thom. You don't. You're starting to see some possibility of living and it's drawing you. I understand, but you need to finish the machine for that man in the hospital. Whatever you do with your body..."_

"_Our body."_

"_...you need to help him if you can," Tim said, not acknowledging Thom's interruption. "That's all I ask, Thom."_

_Thom looked at the machinery between them._

"_Is this here because of you?"_

_Tim looked at it, too._

"_Probably."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I was thinking that there needed to be some sort of barrier while you sorted out things and I tried to fix the machine. This has always been here."_

"_Tim...I..."_

_Tim just shook his head and smiled in understanding. "Thom...no matter what you decide to do, you have my support. I had a decade of real life. How many made up people could say that? I shouldn't even exist but I do...and I got to live. That's something. Maybe it's time for the dream to be over. Maybe it's time for Thom to wake up."_

_Thom thought about the stars. He thought about everything that he had experienced, both good and bad. He thought about what kind of a life he could have. He thought about not saving Tim from this limbo. He thought about every possible permutation...and then he looked at Tim._

"_No," he said firmly. "No, Tim. I can't. This is your life. It's not mine. Thom Gemcity died. No one mourned his passing. Tim McGee has lots of people who will miss him if he dies. I've had a chance to see the stars again. That's enough."_

"_It's not enough. You know it and I know it."_

"_It _is_ enough," Thom said, trying to convince himself as much as he was convincing Tim. "We'll still have this place, this theater of the mind. It's not really living, but it's better than dying isn't it?"_

_Tim shook his head again. "No, Thom. Honestly? I would rather die than have this kind of existence. This isn't how human beings are supposed to go through mortality. We're born. We live. We die. I hope there's something after that, but this...this limbo... This isn't what should happen, not to anyone. Our parents died. They went on. That's what we need to do. When it's our time to go, we go."_

"_Are you saying you want me to die?"_

"_No. No, Thom, what I'm saying is that if you decide to stay..."_

"_I won't!"_

"_...then, I'm going to find a way to die. ...if I can. Am I real, Thom?" Tim asked, suddenly asking for help._

"_Of course you are!"_

"_Am I, though? I was created by a machine. Do I actually have a soul, something that will live on? Or am I...am I just a thing that will cease to exist? It scares me, Thom."_

_Tim did look scared and Thom felt how much that frightened him._

"_You're real, Tim. You're real and...and if you don't have a soul, then you can use mine."_

_Tim smiled. _

"_If there's a God up there watching, then I think it's the least He could do," Thom said._

"_I hope you're right, Thom."_

"_I have to be."_

The phone started ringing.

"_Who would be calling right now?" Tim asked._

"_I don't know."_

"_It must be important. You'd better wake up and answer it."_

"_Okay." Thom turned to leave._

"_Wait, Thom. One thing."_

"_What?"_

"_Don't forget to finish the machine."_

_Thom smiled. "I won't. I'll get it done."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thom woke up and searched vaguely for the phone. He got it and answered.

"Thom...McGee," he said, still fumbling with the name.

"_Thom...it's...it's Michelle. I..."_

"Michelle?" Thom asked. She had sounded frightened.

"_Agent Thom McGee?"_

Thom recognized the new voice. It filled him with terror.

"Yes, that's me."

"_Good. Now, listen up and don't interrupt me. Your friends' lives hang in the balance. If you don't want them dead, then you'll do exactly what I say."_

Thom stayed silent, fear closing up his throat.

"_You're a fast learner, Agent McGee. Okay, here's what you need to do. There's a will that has been appropriated by NCIS. I want it. The original. No copies left lying around for someone else to see and figure out. What's in that will is _mine_ and he knew that. So...you're going to go to NCIS, get that will and then you're going call this number and tell me. I'll give you further instructions after that. If I see _any_ sign of someone sneaking up here, first of all...you don't have time."_

"What do you mean by that?" Thom asked, feeling Tim's rising anger.

"_I mean that your little friend Jimmy is in a bad way. Tell him!"_

There was silence and then Thom heard a scream of pain and the receiver picked up Jimmy's trembling exhalations.

"_Tell him what's wrong with you. Now!"_

"_He stabbed me in the back, Thom!"_ Jimmy whispered. _"M-Michelle got the...the bleeding stopped, she said, but...it's not good."_

"Jimmy..."

"_You hear that, Special Agent McGee? Your little friend needs medical attention and he's not going to get it until you get me that will. If you come here alone with what I want, then you'll be the hero. If not, you'll be the instrument of their demise."_

"Is Michelle hurt?"

"_Not right now she's not. You just get me what I want and she can stay that way. Got it?"_

"Yes. Yes, I understand."

"_Good. Now, here's the information: The will belongs to Petty Officer Logan Percival Madsen. It was received two weeks ago by NCIS and should be in Legal. Is that right...Michelle?"_

Thom listened, feeling Tim's anger at what was being done to his friends. He himself felt mostly fear and terror.

"_That's...that's right. Case number DW5481."_

"_Got that, Agent McGee?"_

"Yes. I have it."

"_Good. Go. If you don't call back in two hours, I'll just kill them both. Or maybe I'll just maim them and let them slowly bleed to death in each other's arms."_

Thom felt sick at the image that conveyed.

"_Don't think I won't do it. I know how to kill, Agent McGee."_

Tim made him ask, "Did you kill Petty Officer Madsen, too?"

"_Very good, Agent McGee. Very good indeed."_

There was a click in his ear and Thom was moving before he had a chance to think about it. Tim wasn't fully in control, but he was moving. Thom felt a compulsion to call someone but he resisted it. The man had said to call no one. He had said that they would die if he told anyone. The two people he really trusted were the ones in danger of losing their lives. He had to do this alone. He could feel Tim disagreeing with him, but he wasn't willing to risk his only friends dying because he trusted the wrong people.

Quickly, he got dressed, grabbed everything that Tim knew he'd need and ran out of his apartment.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Found...and Lost**

NCIS was dark...mostly, but Thom didn't need the lights, not yet. He went onto the Yard and parked in Tim's usual spot. Tim was pushing him to ask for help, but Thom wouldn't do that. He couldn't. He couldn't risk it.

Quietly, he entered the building that meant so much to Tim and so little to him. Full of people who cared about Tim and were only beginning to think of Thom as a real human being.

_Trust them, Thom. Let them help..._

Tim must be really earnest to be communicating directly while Thom was conscious, but still he pushed the thought away. He was going to do exactly what he was told and save Jimmy and Michelle. There wasn't time to organize anything. Just time to do what was necessary. If there was one thing he'd learned from the alleys, it was to act quickly. When you knew what to do, do it and don't stop to think about whether or not it was "right" or "wrong". Survival was all, and if there was someone you cared enough about to try and save, the same principles applied. Thom didn't kid himself for a second that this man would really let them go, but if he could distract him from his goal of killing Michelle and Jimmy, perhaps they could get away. Yes, that was what he would do...even as Tim's feelings about his plan were decidedly negative.

Two hours. Finding that will wouldn't take two hours. Maybe he should get it first, though. Thom nodded to himself and headed up to Legal. Tim didn't spend much time up there, but he'd had the same orientation as anyone else. Thom could feel Tim's resistance, but finally, there was a capitulation, a resignation to the fact that Thom was in charge and making the decisions.

Thom ran into the Legal office. It was dark, and he chanced turning on a light to make sure that he didn't trip over anything. It was important that he not be discovered inadvertently.

_...but I work here...or at least Tim does. No one would think twice about seeing a member of the MCRT working late._

Secure in that thought, Thom searched through the files until he came upon the last will and testament of one Petty Officer Logan Percival Madsen. Quickly, he grabbed it and left Legal, turning off the lights as he went. He paused as Tim's curiosity made him open up the document and read through it. He skipped through the personal stuff at the beginning, knowing it wasn't for his eyes...and knowing equally that it wouldn't be germaine to the case at hand. ...but he couldn't miss seeing the personal notes to family and friends...things they'd never get to see if Thom failed.

It was only notes. They didn't matter, Thom told himself savagely.

_Just like it didn't matter to you to lose everything that belonged to your family?_

That thought hadn't come from Tim. It had come from himself. Stubbornly, Thom ignored the thought. Michelle and Jimmy were what mattered. He looked at the end of the will, a part that had been only recently added.

_In case my will falls into the wrong hands before it can be executed as I wish it to be, I am encoding this with a cypher that only my family knows. It is important that it be decoded and reported to the appropriate authorities, which will be clear when the message is understood. I have been involved in matters that are illegal and I will do my penance for them when the time comes._

What followed was a long paragraph of gibberish. Thom didn't spend time looking at it. He just refolded it and headed out. He looked at his watch. He could take half an hour to try and finish the machine before he left. Tim was urging him to do that although Thom didn't know why.

_What if we die?_

Strangely, that thought held little worry for Thom. He didn't care about whether or not he died, not as such...because he was already dead himself. ...but that man in the hospital deserved to live if it was possible. Nodding to himself, Thom went down to the evidence garage and settled down to work on the machine. Quickly, he turned on the soldering iron and bent over the wiring. The last section, the part meant to connect at the neck. Time was ticking away and Thom knew he couldn't use up any more than half an hour.

_Twenty minutes left..._

"Come on, Tim. Help me out."

_Fifteen minutes left..._

"Is this right? I'm not sure if it's right. It's got to be right!"

_Ten minutes left..._

Thom was sweating with the effort and he could feel Tim helping him as much as was possible.

_Five minutes left..._

"Done!" Thom said and put down the soldering iron. He wrote out a message, stuck it to the machine and ran out of the building, pulling out Tim's phone as he did so. He dialed the number quickly. "I've got it! Now, tell me where to go!"

"_You sure you have it, Agent McGee?"_

"Yes! I have it in my hand."

"_We'll see. Drive south on I-95. When you get to 234, go west until you get to Minnieville Rd. When you get there, call me. It had better not take more than 45 minutes. Got it? And that's being generous."_

Click.

"Wait!" Thom looked at the phone, wanting to call back and demand to talk to Michelle or Jimmy but he knew that would be a bad plan. Instead, he ran to his car and drove away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim let him know where to go and what all the numbers meant. Thom had no idea, but Tim knew. Tim had...had _lived_ here for the last eight years. Years and years of memories. Years of experiences...while Thom had lain dormant, experiencing nothing, creating no new memories. Just...just sitting in that limbo.

_Maybe Tim is right. Maybe dying would be better than that._

As the road stretched out ahead of him, Tim began to press him to tell someone what was going on, at least in part.

_If something goes wrong, you can depend on someone else for backup. They don't have to know everything, but if you give them something, then, maybe, they can help._

Thom sighed. He didn't want to, but it made too much sense to ignore. He reached Minnieville Road and stopped on the side.

"I'm here."

"_Good. Now, drive one mile north, take a left and the drive one more mile. The house you'll see is old and abandoned. That's where we are. Get out of your car and walk to the front door. I see any sign of a gun or backup, they're dead. You walk up to the door and give me the will, I'll leave in your car and you can call for help. Got it? Any funny business and they're dead."_

Click.

Thom was shaking now with anxiety. Too much rested on this. Too many lives. How did Tim deal with this kind of thing every day? How was it possible to hold people's lives in your hands? Finally, he listened to Tim's silent urging and dialed another number.

"_Gibbs."_

"He took Jimmy and Michelle and he's going to kill them if I don't give him the will. Jimmy's already hurt."

"_Thom?"_

"I'm going to where he told me to go. I took the will from NCIS. I have it and I'm going to give it to him. I don't want them to die!"

"_Wait, Thom! Don't do this. You can't trust him to do whatever he's promised."_

"I won't let them die. Tim wanted me to call you. That's why I'm calling."

"_Where are you?"_

"Minnieville Road off 234."

"_Okay, wait there and–"_

"I'm not waiting for you. There's no time to wait. He's given me the time I have. I'm just telling you so Tim will leave me alone."

Thom disconnected, hearing Gibbs shouting at him. He didn't understand. With another deep breath, Thom put the car in gear and set off to follow the directions to the house.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs hung up after two seconds of trying to keep Thom on, realizing that it was pointless to try. He dialed another number.

"_What is it, Gibbs?"_ Abby asked, yawning into the phone.

"I need to figure out where there's a Minnieville Road off 234 around here."

"_Why?"_

"Because Thom's gone there to rescue Palmer and Lee. He says they've been abducted."

Abby was now wide awake. _"What? When? How?"_

"I don't know. Just find out where that is and tell me."

"_Okay."_

Gibbs waited for about two minutes and then Abby was back on the phone.

"_Gibbs, there's a Minnieville Road in Virginia. Drive down I-95 to 234 and go west. Why is he going alone?"_

"Because he's not Tim. He's Thom, and Thom doesn't trust people to help him. He only thinks they'll hurt him."

Gibbs hung up and headed out the door, dialing again as he left.

"DiNozzo. Wake up."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Thom pulled up to the old house. The Porsche was really nice to drive. He hadn't been able to understand Tim's desire for it, but he had to admit that he rather liked it. Thom got out and looked around the barren lot. This house was old and abandoned, the windows boarded up and forgotten, just as the man had said. This must be the place.

Thom was afraid. There was a feeling of anticipation in the air, and he knew suddenly that he'd been foolish to come here on his own. He wasn't really an NCIS agent. He had Tim's memories and experiences, yes, but he was still Thom, a scrawny forgotten teenager...someone who had been thrust into a different world...and yet it was familiar to him, as if he'd seen it all before...but it wasn't his world and these weren't the kinds of things he should be doing. He should...

There was a gust of wind that rustled the trees on the lot and Thom whirled around, reaching for a gun that wasn't there...an instinct of Tim not of Thom. He relaxed when he saw the wind chimes on the porch. The melodious clinking reminded him of the days before his world had fallen apart. It had been a beautiful spring day, just a hint of a breeze. They'd all been sitting out on the porch. Thom had been building a working model of the solar system, letting Lizzie get into his paints and draw her own five-pointed stars.

Thom smiled at the recollection until the pain of the loss twisted his features into an expression of pain. _They're gone. They've been gone for a long time. Focus on what's happening now. That's bad enough._

He approached the house; they should be inside. That's what the message had said, along with the injunction to come alone. He tried to convince himself that this was the right thing to do. Agent Gibbs wouldn't understand...none of them could really understand. They had tried, but Thom could see it in their eyes. The way they watched him all the time, expecting something different, something...more like Tim. Thom knew that they didn't like to see him looking out of Tim's eyes. He didn't blame them, but it did not foster a feeling of trust.

The leaves crunched under his feet and he watched where he was going, afraid of attack, knowing that there was nothing he could do if the attack occurred.

Thom walked up the steps to the door. It was unlocked. He turned the knob...and came face to face with a gun. Tim's reflexes took over and he tried to leap out of the way...but Thom was not used to being shot at. He was used to a lot of things, but the men on the street didn't usually have guns. They didn't need them. He was too slow. His leap turned into a tumble over the porch railing and onto the weedy lawn...bleeding and in pain. He lay there and looked up at the sky, his hands pressed tightly to his abdomen in a hopeless attempt to keep himself from bleeding to death.

A face loomed over him, that same hateful face that he had seen threatening Michelle at NCIS. The man grinned at him.

"Good-bye, Agent McGee," he said and reached down to grab the will.

Thom lay there, not seeing anything, feeling only the pain...and the realization that he was going to die...and he wasn't the only one.

_I'm so sorry, Tim. I didn't want to get you killed,_ Thom thought as the blackness rushed in.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14: Dreams or Dying**

Michelle heard the shot. Jimmy was in and out of consciousness now, and she knew he didn't have much time left. There was nothing left to do but throw caution to the winds. She jumped to her feet and ran at the door.

It was a very solid door.

She bounced off it, holding her shoulder. That wouldn't work. She ran to the window. It was a two-story drop to the ground.

What other option was there? There had been no choice at all when her captor had been there, but she had a choice now: stay here and let Jimmy die or try to get out and get help. Nodding to herself, Michelle, bent down and took off her shoe. She headed for the window and began breaking the glass out of it. She'd already tried it before to see if it was locked (it was). In less than a minute, she'd cleared all the glass out of the window.

"Jimmy?" she called back.

A moan. Nothing more.

No time to waste. She climbed out the window and hung down as far as she could...which wasn't very far. For not the first time, Michelle cursed the fact that she was so short.

_Drop and roll. Drop and roll._

She hit the ground and rolled...and then lay where she landed, feeling winded.

_Get up, Michelle. Get up. You don't have time to lay around._

She got up but promptly started limping. She didn't think she'd actually broken anything, but she'd probably sprained an ankle...or two.

Quickly, she limped around the house to the front, just in time to see Tim's car door slam...and then to see Thom on the ground, bloody hands on his abdomen.

"Thom..." she whispered and then dropped to the ground as bullets began flying at her. She retreated back to the cover of the house. Around to the back, searching for something she could use as a weapon.

There was an old shed at the back of the yard. She ran over to it and hid behind, a length of wood in her hand. It was the best she could do and if she were lucky, it would be enough.

More bullets flew and she dropped to her knees, trying to stay silent, trying not to think of the two (or was it three?) men who would die if she failed.

Silence and she tightened her grip on the two-by-four she held.

Then, she heard it.

Footsteps, walking toward her. She tried to keep her breathing even and soft. No sense in warning her attacker that he was on the right track. She raised the board.

A hand with a gun appeared and she brought the board down hard. ...and then felt horrible when the owner of the hand swore and dropped the gun, swinging around the shed ready to fight.

It was Gibbs.

"Agent...Agent Gibbs!" Michelle said. "Oh, my gosh, I'm sorry. I'm..." She started shaking. "Jimmy! He's upstairs! Where is–?"

"Whoa. Calm down. We got him."

"You...you got him?" she repeated. "He's..."

"He's dead. Whoever he is."

"Thom! He's out front! I think..."

Gibbs' expression was grave. "Tony and Ziva are with him. Jimmy."

"Upstairs!" Michelle took a step and limped heavily.

"You're injured?"

"Ankle, I think. Not broken. I jumped out the window." She smiled a little.

Gibbs nodded and quickly supported her with his arm.

"Show me."

They made it up the stairs to the locked door much more quickly than she would have guessed, and the door was locked. Gibbs took one look at it and the kicked it in.

Jimmy was on the floor, face ashen, eyes closed.

"Jimmy," she whispered. "Jimmy. Wake up. Come on, Jimmy."

He moaned and his eyes opened into narrow slits.

"Tell...them...I'm not going to make...my shift."

Michelle laughed. "I will, but you have to stay awake, Jimmy. Okay? Help is here."

"Thom?"

"Thom is...outside." Michelle looked at Gibbs, tears coming to her eyes.

"The ambulance is on the way."

"Thom?" Jimmy said again, his respiration shallow.

"He was shot, Palmer, but we've got help on the way."

Jimmy opened his eyes more widely. "No."

"He'll be okay," Michelle said. "I'm sure he'll be okay. After everything that's happened. This will be...just a simple thing."

Jimmy's expression, although pinched with pain, spoke volumes about how much he believed her...but he said nothing more. Instead, he focused on breathing slowly, trying not to move or disturb his injury. His only outward sign of agony was how tightly he held to Michelle's hand. Gibbs checked on Jimmy's back, but he couldn't do anything to help...and they all knew it. They just had to wait.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Come on, Thom," Tony said, pressing hard on the bleeding wound. "Not now. Not now."

"Let me lift him, Tony," Ziva said, trying not to shake at the sight. The ground all around Thom was bloody. His breathing was shallow. "We must see if the bullet went through."

Tony nodded and helped Ziva lift him. She looked and shook her head. "No. The bullet must be inside, still."

"Thom, can you hear me?" Tony asked, resuming his pressure on Thom's abdomen.

Strangely enough, neither of them had any trouble remembering to call him Thom rather than Tim.

They continued to try and stop the bleeding, afraid that it was already too late.

Then, Thom's eyes opened briefly and he looked at them both.

"Thom."

Thom blinked, his eyes lost their focus and he trembled.

"I...see...now." Each word was forced out through clenched teeth.

"What do you see, Thom?" Ziva asked, trying to keep him awake.

There was no response. Thom's eyes closed and he sighed.

"No! No, Thom!"

By the time the ambulance arrived, Thom was completely non-responsive.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was water, gently lapping against him. A sense of total and complete calm. No current, no waves, just the soft rush of water. His eyes were closed. He saw nothing. He heard nothing but the water. He knew not where he was, who he was, what he was doing. None of it mattered.

_...BP is falling..._

The sunlight was gentle on his face, soft, warm...welcome. It was that perfect moment, that perfect day when the temperature was just right. The heat coming down from the sun was perfectly balanced by the cool coming up from the water.

_...we're losing him..._

He didn't move. There was no need. He was totally comfortable. He was not lonely. He was not afraid. It was serene. The water bumped against him again...and again. He felt no sense of sickness. He was stable, balanced...and fading slowly away.

_...charging to 200..._

Finally, he opened his eyes. He saw the blue, blue sky above him. The sun was off to one side, warming his face without blinding him. There was someone else there. He could feel the presence, nearby. It was not strange to him...but it made him unsettled.

_...there's too much blood loss..._

He found himself wondering how long he had been here...and where here was. He sat up and looked around. There was nothing but water as far as he could see. Far off in the distance there was more water. He looked to the other side.

_...next of kin..._

The water was red. Beside him lay another...him. Looking exactly the same except for a wound gushing bright red blood. His eyes were closed. He was breathing slowly.

_...not too late..._

He reached out. The silence never abated, the calm continued. He touched the other him and his eyes opened. He looked at him and then all around to the water that surrounded them. He sat up, the blood continuing to pour from his abdomen.

_...no response..._

He looked up at the sky and then down at the water. Their eyes met, green looking searchingly into green. He began to speak.

"They're waiting for you."

He cocked his head to the side. "Who?"

"Your friends."

"Who?"

He reached out and touched him gently. "Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, Abby...all of them. They want you back."

He looked around again, at the water, at the cloudless sky. "Why?"

_...keep trying..._

"Because they care for you."

He looked at him. "You're bleeding."

"Yes. I'm dying."

"Am I?"

"I don't know."

"It's peaceful."

"Yes, it is."

"Why are you here?"

"Because you are."

"I don't understand."

_...never..._

"I'm leaving, Tim."

The name triggered a memory. "Thom."

_...wouldn't want..._

"Yes."

Another memory. "Why am _I_ here?"

"To wait, I guess."

"For what?"

"For me to come and get you."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Am I you? Or are you me?"

"Doesn't matter now."

_...anyway..._

"Where are we going?"

"Nowhere."

"But we can't stay here forever."

"You have to go back."

"What about you?"

"I can't go back. I'm dead."

_...lost..._

"I don't understand."

"You are Tim McGee. It's your body."

"You are Thom Gemcity. It was yours first."

The water darkened. Clouds blocked the sun from the sky. He shivered in the sudden cold.

"You have to go back."

"Not without you."

"Impossible."

_...no..._

"I can't let you die."

"Too late for that...in too many ways." He was now older, more mature. Understanding had come to him at last...at the last possible moment.

"No, Thom. I promised you."

"I'm not holding you to that promise."

"But I am."

"No. You have to go back. You have to live. One of us has to...and it can't be me. Not like this." He pointed to the blood still pouring endlessly out of his abdomen.

"What happened?"

"I got shot."

"You can't die."

"Yes, I can. ...and you're right, Tim."

"About what?"

_...how much longer..._

"It's better to die than to be here forever waiting. I get it now."

The water was red all around them.

"You can't die."

"I already have."

_...now or..._

There was no more calm. No more serenity.

"No!"

He was like a little child, protesting something unfair.

"Yes."

He was like a parent, calmly stating how things had to be.

"I need you. I'm not a whole person! I'm only a part!"

"So am I. You'll remember all of me. That will be enough."

_...know this will..._

"How do you know?"

"I just do. You have to go back so that both of us can survive."

"You just said that you're already dead."

"I am...but we live on in the memories we've created. I was right, too. We're all creations."

He looked down at his wound, the neverending rush of blood, turning the water red.

"We're all creations, no matter what you believe. ...and we all create..." He smiled. "Even if it's only memories."

Green eyes staring into green.

_...have to try..._

A hand reaching out.

"This is the only time we'll get to touch, the only place."

Another hand, mirroring the motion.

"I have a lot of bad memories, Tim. Do you want them?"

"I can't forget."

"I suppose not."

A wind came up, sweeping in dark threatening clouds.

"You have to go."

"I don't know how."

"You have to go now, Tim."

"No. Thom, I can't leave you here."

Now, he smiled, looking at his wound and then into the green eyes opposite him.

"I'm not staying."

"I don't understand."

A hand reaching out, the motion mirrored.

"Good-bye, Tim. Don't forget me."

Lightning cracked through the sky and a wave picked them up and threw them far away from each other.

The sky darkened and the only source of light was the lightning now raining down.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Will it work?" Gibbs asked, staring at the motionless body on the bed.

"It's the only thing that has a chance of working, Jethro, and you know it," Ducky said. "They can keep his body alive indefinitely, but if Timothy or Thom are in there anywhere, this is all that can save them."

"Both of them? Or just one...and which one?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"Can you do it?"

"I don't know. Jimmy has told me what they guessed, but I don't know."

It had been two weeks.

"Jethro...there is no one who can decide this but you. Timothy and Thom are both orphans by design or circumstance. They have no one to make this decision. The doctors have told you what is true based on conventional medicine. This machine may present the only opportunity to coax life back into this body."

Gibbs looked at the body. He didn't know whether to think of it as being Thom or being Tim. Neither seemed to be there. It was just a piece of animated flesh...but he couldn't give up, not now...not ever, not if there was even a chance.

"Jethro?"

"Do it."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: Bring Me to Life**

_Trapped in the darkness..._

Everyone was there. There was no way they could miss it. Not the chance to possibly see their fallen comrade return to life. It wasn't the flesh-and-blood family of either occupant of the body on the bed. Tim had none and Thom's was all lost. True, Lizzie could have been told and asked to come, but somehow, there was no question of doing that. She wasn't the one who should be there. It was Tim's adopted family, those who cared about him...no matter who he was or who he had been. ...and those who also cared about Thom.

Even Jimmy was there...but his presence was more of a necessity. Ducky was doing his best, but he couldn't remember all the connections...and Jimmy had seen it happen, had seen it work, had help reassemble the machine.

...and he wouldn't miss it, not for the world. Even if no one blamed him any longer, he still blamed himself. So...recovered or not, he had to be there.

"Is this right, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky asked.

_...alive?_

"No, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said. "Let me." He made to stand up, wincing at the strain on damaged muscles and tendons. Ducky made him sit down again.

"You should stay seated, Mr. Palmer. We don't want to risk permanent damage."

"Yes, we do. This has to be right." Jimmy looked at Ducky, tears springing to his eyes. "Please, Dr. Mallard, let me do it. It needs to be me. I need to bring him back if I can."

_Where am I?_

No one asked just _whom_ Jimmy wanted to bring back. No one would dare ask that question. They didn't want to answer it themselves. It was a question without a right answer...even if, in their hearts, most of them were thinking of Tim, not Thom.

Ducky nodded in quiet understanding and stood back, allowing Michelle to help him stand and walk over to where Tim/Thom's body lay on the bed. It was already covered in monitors and machines keeping him alive. Jimmy carefully began placing the connectors on Tim, asking for help only for those places where it was necessary to move the body in order to get them correctly attached.

Jimmy didn't have to strain to remember how it worked. Not only had Thom left a message for him, the moment when Tim had been replaced by Thom on that fateful day would forever be seared into his brain.

_Nothing more than darkness...and loneliness...could one feel alone if one did not exist?_

No one, not even Tony, mocked the tears that spilled down Jimmy's cheeks from the strain and from the sorrow. No one asked how much was due to fear of not getting Tim back and how much was due to fear that Thom was dead. Tony and Ziva silently helped lift the body when needed. Gibbs stood as the equally silent arbiter of all that went on. His had been the choice to try and revive Tim/Thom using the machine they had assembled. It was Jimmy who had refused to try it out on the nameless man still lying in his coma. Neither Tim _nor_ Thom would want that. The man was the reason for the repair of the machine, not the guinea pig to try and save another.

Thom had possibly died to save Jimmy and Michelle. Now, they were doing the only thing that could save Tim or Thom...and they didn't know if they were killing Thom and saving Tim or vice versa...or neither.

_Floating aimlessly...but aware of confinement. Did that mean there was a possibility of freedom?_

"Th-There. That's it," Jimmy said, trembling from the pain. Michelle helped him sit down in his wheelchair again. He had almost died, and the doctors had said there would be weeks of physical therapy to get back to full form.

He sank down into the chair and let out a long breath. The task was made more difficult by the fact that no one, not even Jimmy, could dare guess or hope at the outcome of this effort.

_Is that blood? Am I dying?_

"Now, we turn it on."

Michelle rolled him closer to the bed so that Jimmy could do it himself.

"Is this the right thing to do?" Jimmy asked.

_So many memories to remember...should some be discarded or kept? How to juggle them? ...and did it matter?_

"It must be, Jimmy," Ducky said, his own eyes suspiciously wet. "It has to be because we don't have any other choice.

"And yet it's so wrong," Jimmy said, sniffing. "No one should have this kind of power. No one should be able to do this to a human being."

_It's not living to be trapped like this. It's not life to be in the darkness only._

"But we do," Gibbs said. "And since we do, we're not going to squander it. No matter who is still in there, if it's only one or the other, they wouldn't want us to let both die because we're afraid to see what would happen."

Jimmy looked at Gibbs...and saw no hint of blame or condemnation. Gibbs didn't blame him for his fear. He didn't blame him for his grief. He was afraid, Jimmy realized. Gibbs himself was afraid of what would come of this...and yet he still said it was the best, the _only_ thing to do.

"Do you want someone else to do it, Palmer?" Tony asked. He had been looking at the empty face, wishing he knew what was going to happen next.

"One of us will," Ziva said, her voice only sympathetic, not impatient. She had said very little since their arrival at the old empty house three weeks ago...and seeing Thom lying on the ground. She didn't know what she wanted now...only that the impasse needed to be broken.

"No. I will. I need to," Jimmy said getting control of himself.

_...alive or dead...and for how long?_

Jimmy took a deep breath and turned on the machine. It began to hum, lights flashing across Tim/Thom's forehead. Then, suddenly, the body stiffened and began to shake.

_Fire! Burning! Help!_

"Is this right? Should this be happening?" Abby asked, promising herself that no matter who came back, she would make more of an effort to be there, to be worthy of his trust.

It was Ducky who answered.

"I believe so, Abigail. It is remarkably similar to what Dr. Tanner did."

"I hate this," she whimpered.

Jimmy said nothing. He manipulated the dials as the humming increased...as did the shaking. Then, when the humming had reached its peak pitch, he pushed a button and Tim/Thom's body arched up off the bed.

_Let me out!_

The mouth opened and they all knew he would have been screaming if it weren't for the ventilator in his throat. Choking sounds came from the body on the bed and arms which had been so flaccid before began to flail in panic. The heart monitor showed a heartbeat which had soared to more than twice what it had been before.

Ducky took over, nodding to Michelle to keep Jimmy seated while he took hold of the flailing arms.

"It's all right! You're safe!" he said, trying to be calming and yet firm at the same time.

Jimmy turned one more dial and then shut off the machine. The shaking and flailing stopped...

...and eyes opened.

The choking sounds continued as a personality (which one?) tried to take control of a body which had previously been lifeless to all intents and purposes. It was impossible to know who had returned.

"It's all right now," Ducky repeated, looking into the frightened eyes...and wishing he could tell just whom he was speaking to. The fear told him nothing as yet. "It's all right. You need to stay still. Your body has not yet recovered from its injury and you don't want to do more damage."

One hand reached up and tugged at the ventilator. Instantly, Ducky stopped the motion, shaking his head, holding the gaze of the man in the bed.

"No, no! You mustn't try to remove it yourself. I'll call a doctor."

The head shook, the panicked eyes holding his.

"Would you like me to remove it?"

A nod.

"I have not done this in years. You are taking a risk that I might do it incorrectly." Ducky wanted to use a name, but he didn't know which one was appropriate and didn't want to hurt whoever was controlling the body by getting it wrong.

The hand which had tugged on the tube moved to Ducky's shoulder and gripped it tightly. It was begging. Dare he hope that it was an indication of who was possessing the body?

"Very well. You must relax and stay still. Abigail, please have the oxygen mask ready."

Abby nodded, her face pale but mostly composed. She moved into place as Ducky carefully removed the ventilator tube. The silent panic was replaced by gasping breaths, quickly muffled by the oxygen mask. No words. Nothing to indicate a personality...only life...independent life.

He took deep breaths, too quick to be healthy.

"Slow down," Ducky said, more relieved than he showed at getting it right. "It's all right. Keep the oxygen mask over your face for a few minutes while your lungs readjust to breathing on their own. It's been a while since you have done that."

A nod and five silent minutes. The man did nothing other than breathe. He kept his grip on Ducky but wouldn't look at any of them. He kept his eyes closed. Gradually, the breathing slowed down, became calmer. Ducky nodded, a silent signal. Then, Gibbs approached the bed.

"Who are you?" he asked

The man in the bed opened his eyes, kept his head down for a few seconds before looking at them all, one by one, his gaze lingering on Jimmy and Michelle...and then back to Gibbs. He said nothing.

Gibbs sat down on the edge of the bed, staring into the eyes of the man there, trying to know the answer to his question before it was given...but he couldn't. He didn't know.

"Who are you?" he asked again, voice soft, almost gentle.

The man pushed the oxygen mask away from his face, taking in deep breaths of air.

"I..."

He stopped, tears coming to his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling and then down at his hands.

"I'm Tim," he said and began to weep. "I'm Tim."

A long silence, no one knowing what to say as Tim cried.

"Where's Thom?" Jimmy asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

Tim's shoulders hunched and he brought shaking hands to cover his face as his sobs increased.

"Thom is dead. I watched him die. Thom is dead."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: Mourning...and Night**

That was all Tim said for the next few days. He was back in his body. He was the one in control, but he used that to isolate himself. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to see anyone. He tried to sleep, to dream...but none of the dreams were of Thom. None were interactions with...with the original owner of the body. With his...brother?

Every morning when he first awakened, he cried at the knowledge that Thom had died, had _really_ died, that he was gone and never coming back. Jimmy and Michelle came, and rather than trying to force him to speak, they simply sat and mourned with him. Of all the people at NCIS, they were the ones who had really known Thom, the ones who had consistently seen him as a real person.

He couldn't be released from the hospital just yet. Although the doctors were shocked at his "miraculous recovery", his physical body was still in the early stages of recovering from a serious gunshot wound. It would take some time for that damage to heal.

As for the damage to his psyche...who could possibly know that?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky was coming to visit Tim as he did every morning before heading in to work. Tim never spoke, but it was a chance to see how he was doing after another night...another night alone.

He knocked on the door and was about to open it when he was surprised by a weary (and teary) voice.

"Come in."

Ducky walked into the room and smiled gently. Tim was seated on his bed in a cross-legged position, tracing shapes in the nap of the blanket.

"Good morning, Timothy. I must confess that I didn't expect a response."

"I thought about not saying anything. Didn't seem to be much point to...keeping quiet anymore."

"May I sit?"

"Yeah."

"What brought about this decision?"

Tim sniffed and wiped at his eyes. "Just...things. Stuff."

Ducky chuckled softly. "Would you care to elaborate? We have all been quite worried about you these last few days...and for many days before your awakening."

"I know. I know you were worried about me. Thom and I talked about it a lot."

"You talked?"

Tim nodded. "He talked to me like I used to talk to him. In my head...in my sleep. It wasn't much, but he seemed to like it...and when I was stuck in there...it was all I had. The only reality that I could...could touch." Tears filled Tim's eyes. "The only time I could...could exist." Tim looked at Ducky. "Why did I survive, Ducky? Why me? I'm made up. I'm not real...but I'm the one who's still alive...and Thom is the one who died. The real... The person who really exists. Why?"

Ducky sat beside Tim on the bed and held up his arms. Tim leaned against him and accepted the comforting hug.

"Does that mean...mean I exist? That I'm real somehow... real? If I...I didn't...if all I was was...a fantasy...wouldn't that mean that I'd vanish as soon as I wasn't in control? Wouldn't it mean that?"

Ducky searched for what to say. It was impossible to know, impossible to be definitive about something that had never happened before...and probably never would again. Tim was trying to find some way to justify his continued existence, and probably his existence period.

"I can't answer that, lad, but you _do_ exist. The man I've come to know for the last five years isn't a fantasy. He's a real person. He exists...and he's a very good man."

Tim laughed through his tears. "You don't have to try to make me feel better, Ducky. It's not going to happen...not for a while."

"I'm not. I'm simply stating the truth. The truth doesn't necessarily make one feel better or worse."

"I didn't want him to die...but I didn't want him to go on like he was either. I wanted...wanted some way for him to live again, really live...without..."

"Without having to die yourself."

Tim nodded and cried again. "Maybe if I wasn't so selfish..."

"No, lad. It's not selfish to want to live. Every being desires that. I doubt that Thom would have berated you for wishing it."

"He didn't. He wanted me to live. From the first he said he couldn't take over my life. I just wanted there to be some way. Ducky, that...that limbo I was in while Thom was in control...it was the worst thing in the world. It wasn't real...but I couldn't escape it. ...and I wanted to. I didn't want to stay there. I told Thom that...that I would rather die than exist that way for the rest of...of our life. Ducky, _why_ did this have to happen to us? Why was there an _us_ at _all_? It's not right! It's not fair! There was no way for this to have a happy ending." Tim's voice cracked and his hand spasmodically grabbed hold of Ducky's jacket. "It's so..._wrong_!"

"Yes, it is, Timothy. It is wrong. It is unfair. It is a story without a fully-happy ending. All that you have said is true, but it's not the end. There is more. You have a life to live, and it's one that you _must_ live...if only to make sense of the loss you have suffered."

Tim sat up and wiped at his eyes, trying to smile. "I've started thinking of ...of Thom as..." He laughed. "...as my brother. We're like...Siamese twins to the nth degree. Instead of sharing limbs or a torso...we shared an entire body...and one of us died." He fiddled with the blanket for a few seconds. "Maybe we're only brothers in misfortune."

"I don't think you need to put words to what you two are, but you both are good men. Thom risked his life to save others. You would have given up your life to let him live. We might wish for the fairytale, but it was not to be. Regardless, that does not mean that you cannot mourn the loss, nor that you should pretend it did not happen. You must find your own way to live with the tragedy. All we can do is try to support you through that. ...and we all are willing to do so...if you'll let us."

"Thanks, Ducky. I appreciate that. How is...Jimmy doing?"

"If you don't mind my suggesting it, he could use a visit from you. I know that he and Michelle have come to see you without pushing for anything, but Jimmy feels this tragedy is at least partially his fault and he regrets Thom's death much as you do, if not to the same degree."

"He's still in the hospital?"

"Oh, yes. His injuries were life-threatening. He will be a long time in recovery."

"But he'll get better, right?"

"Oh, yes. Eventually."

"Where is his room?"

"Just up a floor from you, actually."

Tim nodded. "I can do that, Ducky."

"If you could assuage his guilt, that would be wonderful."

"That's a tall order. I can't even do that for myself yet."

"Perhaps in trying to help him, you could help yourself as well."

"I suppose."

"I must head to work. Will you be all right?"

"Yeah...maybe...yeah, I will."

Ducky patted him on the back.

"You need not isolate yourself in shame, Timothy. If you wish for comfort in your grief, you have but to ask for it."

"Thanks, Ducky."

Ducky gave Tim one last glance before he left. Tim seemed different, not the same as he'd been...but he couldn't pin down just what was different. Of course, anyone would be changed by his recent experiences. Perhaps that was all.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy was surprised at the knock. Michelle didn't need to knock and Ducky had to be at work.

"Come in," he said.

There was a pause and then the door opened, revealing the last person Jimmy had expected to see.

"Hi, Jimmy," Tim said, looking very awkward.

"Hey..Tho–Tim. Sorry." Jimmy felt horrible about making that mix-up.

Tim winced but then smiled. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You talked with Thom a lot."

"Yeah...I did."

"You liked him," Tim said.

"Yeah," Jimmy said with a brief nod. "You should sit down. I'm sure you're not recovered yet."

Tim nodded and sat. "I'm not. I probably shouldn't have walked up here."

"I'm sure you shouldn't have. You got shot! ...or at least, your body did."

"Yeah...I hardly feel it, you know. It hurts, but it's not...quite real."

"Maybe because you weren't there when it happened."

"Maybe. I saw the results though."

"What do you mean?" Jimmy asked. "You said before that you saw him die. What did you mean?"

Tim smiled and sighed. "He really appreciated you and Michelle. You were friends to him...and he didn't have many...mostly because he couldn't."

"I liked him...I mean, I like you, too, Tim...I just...I..."

"Don't worry, Jimmy. I don't feel bad about that. It's going to be weird...for a while. ...maybe forever. I don't know."

An awkward silence fell as they both thought about the reason for the weirdness.

"How are you feeling?" Tim asked.

"Better. ...as long as I don't try to move my...anything. Well, I can move my hands and my toes and my...tongue and... stuff...but..." Jimmy trailed off.

Tim laughed a little.

"Thanks, Jimmy."

"For what?"

"Everything."

Jimmy looked at Tim curiously. He was different...but then, how could he possibly be acting like normal after what happened?

"I wanted to tell you what happened," Tim said, seeming strangely intense. "You and Michelle deserve to know because of how close you were to Thom."

"The others?"

"Not now...maybe not ever...but not everything."

"What's going on, Tim? You're different."

Tim nodded.

"I am."

"And you're going to tell me why?"

"No...I don't think I could." Tim leaned forward, winced a little, and looked at Jimmy earnestly. "I need to tell you what happened so that you understand that you shouldn't feel guilty about it."

"That transparent?"

"No. You just have people who care enough to notice...and I was too wrapped up in...in myself to notice."

"You had reason to be."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I've been thinking for the last few hours about everything...everything that's happened and you've done so much for...for _us_ that you need to know what happened."

"Could Michelle know, too?"

"Of course," Tim said, nodding.

"Then, would you mind waiting just for a few minutes? She should be here soon."

"Sure." Tim fell silent and didn't even try to speak. Neither did Jimmy. He didn't know what to say, first of all. Second of all...he was still trying to figure out why it was that Tim seemed so very different. Was it just because he'd become so accustomed to Thom and Thom's personality?

By the time Michelle came, Jimmy was bursting with questions that he was fairly certain Tim wouldn't want to answer. Michelle smiled when she saw Tim sitting on a chair beside Jimmy's bed, but she had a look of concern in her eyes as well.

"Tim, you're up!"

"In a manner of speaking," Tim said with a smile. "I wouldn't want to try running any races right now."

"Definitely not." She hugged him gently and then sat down. "I'm just so glad that you're talking again."

"That's...why I'm here. To talk. To you both."

"About what?" Michelle asked.

"About what happened...to me...and to Thom."

"You don't have to, Tim," Michelle said. "You don't owe us anything. We owe you and Thom our lives."

"So do we...just not maybe in the way people are used to."

"What do you need to say, Tim?" Jimmy asked.

"I saw Thom die...in our head. There's a place...it's...almost impossible to explain it. Everything makes sense when you're there. You don't question. You don't wonder. You're just there...waiting. Waiting to...exist, I guess. Thom was there, dying." Tim looked down. "He was bleeding into the water and he looked at me and we...we talked. He said that everyone was waiting for me to go back, that he couldn't because he was dying."

"I saw," Michelle said. "...from the outside anyway."

Tim smiled and nodded, not protesting her statement.

"I saw from the inside...sort of. ...but what you both need to know is that Thom didn't care about dying...I mean, he didn't really _want_ to, I don't think, but he understood."

"Understood what?"

"I'd told him before...that...that I'd rather die than be stuck in limbo for the rest of...our life. He didn't get it at first, but when he was...dying." Tim stopped and looked away for a few seconds. "When he was dying...he said he wouldn't be staying that he understood what I had meant and he was...going on...to whatever came after...whatever that is. ...but...what I wanted you both to know was that he...Thom really came to care for you. You were...his friends and he didn't many and he...he didn't know how to say it, not as he was, but he wanted you to know. He wanted you to know that he was glad to have friends at the end...and that you were worth saving."

Michelle's eyes filled with tears and she took Jimmy's hand and tried to smile.

"I did like him, Tim," she said. "I hope you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Tim said, a little teary himself. "He needed friends. You can be friends with both of us... You can..." Tim started to cry. "...you can regret that he died. I wish there had been some way to save him...to really save him...but there never was. Only one of us could really live. ...and that's what makes this so hard."

Michelle got up and walked around the bed. She sat beside Tim and hugged him as tightly as his wounded state allowed.

"There's more that he wanted to do," Jimmy said.

Tim nodded. "Yes. The man in the hospital. He's...still there, isn't he."

"Yeah. You and I are the only ones who know what to do."

Tim blinked away the tears and again, Jimmy had the feeling that there was something very different about Tim now.

"We'll do it...together. Both of us have...gone through a lot for it. We all did and you and I should both be there to see if we can save him."

Jimmy nodded.

"Tim...I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you're...you're really different. I can't even say why."

"I am. I know."

"Why?"

Tim smiled once more and stood up. "I told you once before...and it's still true...only not in the same way."

"What do you mean?"

Tim shook his head. "I can't explain it better than that right now. I don't..." He stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. "I haven't worked it out for myself yet. When I know...then, I'll tell you. I'll tell everyone...but right now, I can't because I don't think there are words for it..." He laughed a little. "...so I have to come up with some substitutes. ...but right now, I'm tired and I need to rest."

"Okay," Jimmy said and watched Tim leave the room. As soon as the door closed Michelle took Tim's vacated seat.

"What's going on, Jimmy?" she asked.

"I don't know. Something more than Tim expected, I guess."

"Do you think that–?"

"That what?"

Michelle looked uncomfortable with suggesting whatever was on her mind.

"What, Michelle?"

"Do you think that...that maybe Thom didn't really die?"

"Tim said he did."

"...if he's Tim."

Jimmy looked at Michelle in surprise. "You think he's lying?"

"I don't know. ...but you're right. He's different. He's not...not Tim like he was before."

"Thom wouldn't lie to us."

"I'd like to think so but...maybe...if he was desperate enough..."

Jimmy couldn't think of an answer to that. It was too true to deny. Thom had a desperation about him that Tim didn't have, a willingness to go places Tim wouldn't go.

"We won't say anything about it," he said. "We can't."

"I know," Michelle said instantly. "I don't even like to think that it's possible. It's just that..."

"...that it is," Jimmy said. "We'll let him figure out what he wants to say. We owe him that much. Okay?"

Michelle nodded. "Nothing can be simple, can it?"

"Not here. Not now."

"Maybe never."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Paradigm Shifting**

Tim was released from the hospital a week later, but his doctor said that he wasn't to attempt anything like a regular schedule for at least another month. He needed to recuperate and while he didn't need the hospital, he did need rest.

There was more that he needed, but Tim wasn't sure what it was. There _was_ something different about him...and he thought he might finally understand what was different. ...but he didn't know how to explain it in words. All he knew was that, after a week of thinking about it and searching in his own mind, he felt a measure of peace that he hadn't felt...possibly _ever_.

However, some things were still not...right. He hadn't really talked to Abby since all this had started. He knew that Thom hadn't trusted her and that he had been upset with her protection. Tim was as well to some degree, but he understood as Thom couldn't ever have understood.

Another week of being in his apartment, visitors every day but very little being said, and Tim was feeling a bit better physically.

...maybe ready to try and explain.

There was a knock at the door. Tim stood up gingerly. He still felt the weakness from his injury even though there were times that he genuinely forgot his body had been shot. Unwise movements always quickly reminded him of that fact.

Slowly, he walked to his door and looked through the peephole.

"Hi, Boss. You haven't really been by."

Gibbs nodded. "I know."

"Come in."

Tim stood back and let Gibbs step into his apartment. Then, he walked back to his bedroom and sat down on the bed. He didn't feel any need to explain himself.

"How are you feeling?"

Tim shrugged. "Getting better. I can move around more now."

"That's not what I was talking about."

Tim smiled.

"Everyone has noticed."

"And they're not sure what to think about it and they're wondering if maybe more is going on than I've said?"

"More or less."

"They're right. There's more."

"Jimmy said there might be."

"He's worried?"

"Only marginally more than the rest of us," Gibbs said dryly.

"I'm sorry about that."

"You ready to tell us what _more_ there is?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"Because of what the more is."

"Tell me, Tim."

Tim took a breath and let it out, wincing slightly.

"I'm...not exactly Tim anymore."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Almost before he knew it, Tim found himself headed to the hospital, Gibbs dragging him along, calling everyone else. Tim's explanation had been cut off almost mid-sentence when Gibbs had decided that the others needed to hear this from Tim...and he didn't need to say it more than once...for now.

"What's going on?" Jimmy asked when Tim walked into his hospital room, followed by Gibbs. Tony and Ziva were already there, but it was clear that they had only just arrived. Michelle, on the other hand, looked very firmly established in her seat.

"Just have to wait for Ducky and Abby," Gibbs said.

"Tim?" Michelle asked.

Tim just smiled and sat down on the chair.

"I'm only saying this once, apparently," he said.

"Saying what?" Jimmy asked.

Gibbs held up a hand, stopping the conversation from going any further.

"We wait for Ducky and Abby. He only needs to say what he has to say the one time."

Tim shifted uncomfortably, still trying to figure out what words were the right ones to describe what he'd come to realize about himself. An awkward silence fell, no one speaking until at last the door opened, revealing Ducky and Abby. Abby looked at Tim, smiled...and then sat down apart from him, clearly unsure of what to do. Ducky smiled sympathetically at Tim and then took a seat near to Jimmy's hospital bed.

"So what is it that requires all our presences?" Ducky asked.

"I wanted to tell you what was going on...because I know you've all been worried," Tim said. "I'm sorry for that. I've just been trying to figure out what words to use to explain what happened. I haven't been able to...square it with myself."

"So...what's been going on, Probie?" Tony asked.

"_Are_ you Tim?" Jimmy asked softly.

Tim looked at him and smiled.

"You noticed."

"You're _not_ Tim?" Abby asked. "That's impossible. You're Tim. You said so."

"Yes," Tim said with a smile at Abby that somehow silenced her fear. "I did say so...and I wasn't lying. I'm Tim. ...but...I'm Thom, too."

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked. "You told us that Thom had died."

"He did die," Tim asked, still feeling some of that same anguish about it. "In my mind...in _our_ mind. In a place that..." There were no words for that place and Tim gave up trying to describe it. "...he died...but his memories didn't. They're...They're _my_ memories now."

"What does that mean exactly?" Ziva asked.

"It means that...that all I have are the real memories...mostly. There's...a shadow of the false memories they created, but...but the real memories..._Thom's_ memories. They're mine now. All that he was, everything that...that created _him_ is what I remember."

"What about Sarah?" Abby asked.

Tim nodded. "I remember her, but the connection isn't because of...of the...because of what Tanner planted there. It's because of the memories I have of her after, the real memories. Thom is dead...but he's not gone. He...moved on. I'm left, but I still have Thom's memories. I don't have...the family Tanner made up anymore. I have...Lizzie and...and _our_ parents."

"Did you plan this, Timothy?"

Tim shook his head and still felt bewildered at what he was saying. "No. I thought he was dead and...and he is...but I was... That day when I talked to you. I woke up and I thought back and I realized that I was remembering _Thom's_ memories. That's never really happened before. There was always a conflict, times when what I automatically remembered didn't fit with what Thom had experienced. He asked me to remember him, but...I've done more than that. Maybe it's because...this is Thom's body. The memories are in here and since his...his spirit isn't here anymore..." Tim sighed. "I don't know. I really don't know. I only know that...that I'm Tim...but I'm Thom...and it doesn't hurt anymore...but it's...not what I expected."

"What about Thom?" Tony asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Did _he_ know?"

Tim hesitated. "Yes...yes, he understood. He understood something that I don't understand. He asked me if I wanted to remember. I said I couldn't forget, and I can't. I accepted his memories, but I didn't know...didn't know that they'd be replacements."

Tim ran out of words and stopped talking. No one else spoke for a few moments. Then, Abby got up and walked close to him. She knelt down and took his hands in her own. She looked at his hands and then up into his eyes. Her face was very close to his as she seemed to study everything about him. Tim returned her gaze, unsure of what she was trying to accomplish. She lifted his hands to her lips and she kissed them.

"Abby..." he whispered.

"You're...you're Tim...but if you're still Thom, too...can you trust me again?"

Tim flexed his fingers and grasped Abby's hands. He pulled her up to his level and hugged her. Then, he kissed her cheek.

"Yes. I was angry about what you did, but I always understood why. Thom couldn't. He'd been betrayed too many times...but my life doesn't end after 20 years. It doesn't end after five years of misery and hopelessness. My life _began_ with a fresh start. My life has...has meaning and I always had people to support me." He pulled Abby close and whispered in her ear. "And that includes you, Abby."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Completely."

Abby hugged him back, carefully, but tightly. "Thank you...Thank you, Tim."

Tim let himself relax in Abby's arms. He had automatically tensed slightly, but that was because of Thom's automatic distrust. Tim didn't need to be afraid of everyone. He would be able to overcome the fear because now it was his own fear, not a fear that came from something he didn't completely understand.

_It's my fear now. It's my life now._

"What does this mean, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Abby let Tim go so that he could look at Gibbs.

"It means...that there's not an _us_ inside me now. Now, it's all...just me. My fear, my pain, my past." Tim took a breath. "...and my future. It's not that I'm taking over but that there's only me, a combination of Thom's past and my present and future."

Another long silence.

"So..." Tony began slowly. "...does that mean that...we should spell your name T-_H_-I-M now?"

"Tony!" Ziva said and punched him in the shoulder.

Tim looked at Tony for a long moment and then he suddenly started to laugh. The laughter surprised him as much as it surprised everyone else. Then, he felt the tears behind the laughter and he stopped laughing...in order to chew on the inside of his cheek.

"Tim?" Abby asked.

"You...You can do that if you want, Tony," Tim said finally. "I don't mind." He smiled weakly. "Really."

"You don't look like that's okay with you," Tony said, rubbing his arm.

"No, it's okay. If you had waited a few days, I really would have found it funny. It's still too...too soon for jokes, but that was funny. Really."

Abby put comforting arms around Tim and he didn't mind having her near.

"So what now?" Ziva asked.

Tim looked at Jimmy.

"You and I have a job to do, Jimmy," he said. "We have someone to wake up...if we can. Are you able?"

"Not completely, but if they'll let me...we shouldn't leave him like that any longer than we have to," Jimmy said. "No matter _who_ he is, he doesn't deserve it."

"Exactly."

"Mr. Palmer," Ducky protested. "You're hardly..."

"No, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said firmly. "It has to be Tim and me. We're the ones who need to wake him up."

Michelle squeezed Jimmy's hand but said nothing against his declaration. The people who had really understood Thom were the ones who understood. The others were close to it, but not quite.

"Very well," Ducky said, "but you are not to overdo it. You are hardly recovered."

"I know that, but it's worth the risk."

Tim nodded. "When?" he asked.

Jimmy looked at Tim and then at the others...and then out the window.

"How about now?" he suggested.

Tim smiled...a Thom smile...and nodded.

"Okay. Now."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Awake and Arise**

Ducky insisted on helping Jimmy to Bethesda and to the room. He was confined to a wheelchair and forbidden to exert himself. Tim was also cautioned to take it easy. Both men listened with only half an ear. This whole thing had begun because of their desire to save a man who was in the same state Tim himself had been in. It seemed only fitting to finally bring the matter full circle.

Carefully, Tim made the various connections. Jimmy kept careful watch on the dials.

"Are you ready, Jimmy?" Tim asked.

Ducky and Michelle might as well have been invisible. Tim and Jimmy were the only ones moving. Their slow and deliberate movements were as much due to determination to do this correctly as to the pain from their injuries.

"I think so."

Tim nodded and attached the final connectors to the man's head. Jimmy turned on the machine and there was a play of lights across his forehead. Tim stared at them, almost mesmerized for a a few moments.

"Timothy!" Ducky said.

Tim jumped a little and looked at Ducky.

"Sorry...I hate this thing. I really hate it."

"Me, too," Jimmy said softly.

Michelle gently massaged Jimmy's shoulders but kept silent.

"Everything is in place?" Ducky asked.

Tim nodded. He reached out to turn on the machine and then stopped. He looked at the man on the bed. What if this worked? What if it didn't? What kind of a person was this man? Why had he been chosen? Was he another homeless person like Thom had been?

_Did I look like this before Thom was suppressed? Did I lay here like this? Did I have anything inside me? Did I have an identity? Was I–?_

"Timothy?" Ducky asked, gently placing a hand on Tim's outstretched arm.

"This could be me, Ducky," Tim whispered. "This could be me lying here."

"I'll do it, Tim," Jimmy said, making as if to stand.

"No...No, I...I'll do it. You stay there and...and make sure I don't mess up."

"You won't."

"I could, but I'll try not to."

Tim slowly reached out once more and flipped on the machine. The lights brightened and the machine hummed as it had when Jimmy had awakened Tim. Jimmy was watching the display, but Tim wasn't paying attention to that. Unlike Jimmy, Tim was working by what felt right...because, while he didn't really remember what had happened, some part of him knew exactly how this was supposed to work. He showed no emotion as the man stiffened and shook. He knew this was how it had to happen. He just stared, listening to the humming crescendo, waiting for it to reach its highest pitch.

Then, he turned a dial and the man's eyes opened wide. The doctor who had been standing by in case of an emergency, stepped forward and, with Ducky's help, removed the ventilator. Then, he put an oxygen mask over the man's face as he struggled to get away. Tim just stared, seeing himself in this man.

Finally, he stepped forward and leaned over so that he could speak directly into the man's ear.

"It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay. You're back in the real world. I know you've been fighting to get out of that place, no matter where the escape led you, but you're free now. Just breathe. Just breathe and know that you're free."

The man looked over at him with his frightened eyes, but he stopped fighting the oxygen mask. His heart rate gradually slowed down and he looked around the hospital room in confusion.

...but his eyes kept coming back to Tim, staring at him as though he were a lifeline. Tim said nothing else, but he never looked away. Jimmy kept his eyes on the dials and then he turned them down...and then off.

"That's it," he said softly. "We did it."

It took more than a few minutes for the man to calm enough to breathe normally. The doctor stayed there, monitoring all his vital signs, making sure that this madness didn't result in death.

It didn't. Tim looked away from the man only for a moment...in order to look at Jimmy who took a deep breath and stood up. Together, he and Tim carefully removed all the connectors, sensors and wires that had restored this still-nameless man to life. After that was done, Jimmy couldn't stay up anymore and he sank back to his wheelchair. Tim looked back at the man and asked the same question Gibbs had asked of him.

"Who are you?"

The man looked at him, looked at the others, still frightened.

"Where am I?" he croaked.

"In a hospital in Bethesda, Maryland," Tim answered. "Who are you?"

"Who are _you_?"

"I'm like you...or like you would have been if they'd had the chance to do it."

The man looked at the others in the room.

"I'm Timothy McGee. This is Jimmy Palmer, Michelle Lee...and Donald Mallard." Then, Tim looked at the doctor who was, quite frankly, amazed at what had occurred. "This is your doctor, Dr. Corelly. Who are you?"

"J-Jonathan...Jonathan Taber. Has it been a long time?"

"We don't know how long they had you, but you've been in this hospital for a few months. When do you think it is?"

Jonathan took very deep breaths.

"What year is it?"

"2007."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Slowly, Jonathan nodded. "Not 2006?"

"No. 2007."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"How could that be?"

Tim took a breath and then looked at the others.

"Could I talk to him alone for a minute? Do you mind?"

"No. Of course not, Timothy," Ducky said quickly and shooed everyone else out of the room.

Tim sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Why did you...do this?" Jonathan asked.

"Jimmy and I needed to do it. Jimmy because he felt a responsibility. Me...because I know how it feels to be trapped in a body. Were you ever in the water?"

That question would mean nothing to almost anyone else in the world. ...but Jonathan's eyes widened.

"Yes," he whispered. "How did you–?"

"I was there."

"Who _are_ you?"

"I'm the end result of the same process that trapped you. I'm a created personality that overwrote the original possessor of this body for a time. That person died and I'm all that's left. ...but we were in the water together. I was in the water alone. I know what that place is like."

"Time...lasts forever."

Tim nodded.

"Why?"

"To use you...as they used me for years."

"Where are they?"

"In prison. Dead. Hopefully, gone forever."

"Who were you?"

"Someone who was almost dead anyway. Homeless. Alone. Abandoned."

Jonathan nodded. "Me, too," he said softly. "I still don't know how it happened. One minute...everything is perfect. The next..."

"You wonder how it's possible that anything in your life could _ever_ have been good."

Another slow nod. They both fell silent, each lost in his own memory.

"So...what happens now?" Jonathan asked.

"Do you have family?"

"None that will want me back."

"Are you sure of that?"

"As sure as I can be. It's been a few years."

"Maybe it's worth trying again. ...but if not...anything I can do to help you, I will."

Jonathan stiffened slightly. "Why would you do that?"

"To give you the same chance that I've had. Everyone deserves a chance to live. Everyone. Even you."

Jonathan looked at himself and then out the window on the world that he'd felt had given up on him already.

"Jonathan...if you've got something better, I won't stop you...but if not, let me help."

"I was going to be an engineer, you know." He smiled briefly. "I wanted to build things. Loved building things when I was a kid. Started college...and was an idiot."

"I was going to be an astronomer. Now, I'm a federal agent...but part of me still wants that."

"But you're happy?"

"Mostly. Yeah. I've lost things...people that I can't get back, but mostly, I'm happy."

"And you'd help me?"

"Yes. What do you say?"

Jonathan was quiet for a long time. He looked down at the bed, at his skinny arms. Then, he looked up at Tim and he smiled tentatively.

"Okay. ...and I don't have to be an engineer."

Tim smiled. "Whatever you want to do...that I can help with, at least."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next few weeks, the focus, instead of being on Tim and his new situation, was on Jonathan. He needed weeks of physical therapy to restore his muscle tone. He wanted to wait to contact his family until he could, in his words, show them someone "worthwhile", rather than the drifter he'd been before.

Jimmy made arrangements to do his therapy at the same time and that gave Jonathan the chance to interact positively with other people...and to rebuild his faith in humanity _and_ himself. Tim went back to work on a limited basis, but he didn't talk much about what had happened.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim?"

Tim looked up from his rapt contemplation of his computer screen. He'd been staring at it for the last ten minutes.

"Yeah?"

"Come with us," Abby said.

"Us? I only see you." He smiled to take any sting out of his words.

"I know, but there _is_ an us. Please, come."

Tim nodded and let Abby take his hand. She was almost tentative in her movements as she led him out of the building...and to her car. She didn't try to speak as she drove...to Gibbs' house. He smiled when he realized where they were going, but he kept silent.

When they arrived Abby got out of the car and again took his hand to lead him once more. Tim let her. When he got inside, he saw the people he expected. Even Jimmy and Michelle were there, Jimmy sitting in such a way that it was clear he wasn't going to be getting up until he had to.

"Hi," he said.

"Tim, how are you doing?" Gibbs asked, point blank.

"Okay."

"Really?" Tony asked. "Because you've seemed kind of out of it the last little while, Probie."

"Lots on my mind, I guess."

"Like what?" Ziva asked.

"Like...what all this means for me."

"In what way?" Ducky asked. "I thought you had understood it."

Tim looked down at the floor and then at Ducky. "Am I real, Ducky? Or am I just a placeholder in a body that hasn't died yet? I thought I must be...but all the things that...that made me who I thought I was...they're...gone...replaced by everything that made Thom who _he_ was. I react to things but then I wonder...is that because of...because of Thom's history? Would the Tim I was before have reacted that way? What if I've only delayed oblivion? I look at Jonathan and...and he's...he's alive. He doesn't have that conflict."

"And you envy him?" Ducky asked.

"A little. I really wish...that I could just have a normal life."

"Is it necessary?"

"I guess not, but...doesn't stop me from wishing."

"Do you wish I'd failed?" Jimmy asked from his seat on the couch.

Tim looked at Jimmy...and knew he had to be honest. "Sometimes. Sometimes, I do...but I don't want to die...anymore than I wanted to when you asked me if I'd cede control of this body to Thom. I don't want to die...but I'm afraid that I'll never really live. I watch how easy it's been for Jonathan to bounce back. I don't have that...because I'm the usurper."

He suddenly felt arms around him from behind and he smiled.

"Thanks, Abby."

"You're not a usurper, Tim! You said that Thom knew, that he let you come back! He wanted you to live, even when he was in control, he wanted you to live...as much as you wanted him to be able to live! You _can_! I know you can. Please?"

Tim pulled Abby around so that he could hug her back.

"I want to. I really do."

"Then, you have to try, McGee," Gibbs said. "If you don't try, it's not going to happen."

"You just need to let it happen," Jimmy said. "That's why Jonathan has bounced back so quickly. He doesn't have the conflict you have and he's just enjoying the chance to live. That's what you have to do. Try enjoying living...and I think the things Thom loved and the things you love will work themselves out."

"I just didn't realize..."

"Who could?" Ducky asked. "Who could really understand what all this would entail? It's something that's never happened before and hopefully never will again." He walked forward and looked Tim in the eye. "_You_ are writing the rule book here, Timothy. ...and Timothy you are and Timothy you will remain. If there are changes that go along with it, well, that is something that every person experiences. We all change due to what life throws at us. Your changes are simply unique. ...but you _can_ find happiness, and we are all willing to help you do so."

"Is that what tonight is for?"

"Think of it as a welcome back party, McGee," Tony said with a smile. "You're getting back in the groove of things and we want to throw you a party...but Boss wouldn't let me get any table dancers; so you'll have to deal with us."

Tim smiled slightly. "So _you're_ going to table dance, Tony?" he asked.

Ziva laughed. "I do not want to see that, thank you...but we _are_ prepared to feed you...and everyone else. We just ask that you allow yourself to celebrate your new chance at living."

Michelle spoke for the first time. "Because you know that Thom would want you to be happy."

Tim smiled at her and nodded.

"Okay. I'll try. Just give me time."

"Now that you have it," Abby said, "we'll give you all the time you want!"

She gently pulled him again. This time out to the back yard where they'd set up a table and a grill. They sat down and ate and talked. Nothing too extreme...but it was a chance to...get reacquainted with each other.

...and a chance for Tim to accept his life.


	19. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Life goes on...and on...and on...**

Tim sat in his apartment, thinking about all that had happened. There was so very much to consider. Jimmy was finally at the point where he could begin working again, albeit in a limited capacity. Tim himself was back at full status. Jonathan had contacted his family and been surprised at their excitement and relief. He was nervous at the prospect of seeing them again, but the weeks and months since his awakening had worked wonders. A lot of things were going well, but still, Tim felt a degree of melancholy for the life that had been lost. No matter how much he still _was_ Thom, the essence, the spirit of him was gone. He had died.

His melancholy had worried Jimmy enough that he had cornered Tim one day, just to make sure that he was okay.

"_You just don't look very happy, Tim."_

"_I'm getting there, Jimmy...but it's taking time."_

"_I don't want to act all nosy and stuff, but...but is there something you're waiting for? Something you want to see happen that's not happening?"_

"_I guess I just want to know that I made the right choice."_

"_You did," Jimmy said instantly...and then flushed a little. "Well, there's no doubt in _my_ mind that you did."_

"_I wish I could be as sure. It just seems like I'm back only because Thom died...and it doesn't feel...right."_

Jimmy had been sympathetic, but he couldn't fix that problem. He could only reiterate that Tim could lean on them and let him go on with trying to deal with his life as it now stood. ...a life that didn't feel like it belonged to him.

...but then, Tim started to remember something else, a dream he'd had just before all this had begun...

Two little boys playing in a sandbox, running into each other and becoming one person. One whole person. Becoming, in fact, Timothy McGee...and _not_ Thom Gemcity.

The dream had come true in a way. Just not in the way he'd expected, although what _had_ he expected, really? What could all that have meant? Did it really mean anything at all? It had been a dream, nothing more.

Just a dream...

Tim didn't admit it to anyone, but every night when he went to sleep, he hoped that he'd dream of Thom. He hadn't, but he still hoped for it to happen...but even if he did, would it really be Thom? Or would it just be a dream?

Just a dream...

He looked out his window at the night sky. It was so clear. Suddenly, he was struck with a desire to...to see the stars. Without really thinking, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Tony?"

"_Yeah? What is it?"_

"Where did you take me...uh...Thom to see the stars?"

"_Just an area north of DC. I can show you."_

"No...just tell me."

"_What's going on, McGee?"_

"Nothing really. This is...something I need to do, though. By myself. Can you tell me how to get there?"

"_Only if you promise that you'll tell me how things are going after."_

Tim smiled. "I can do that."

"_Okay."_ Tony gave the directions and Tim thanked him before hanging up.

He got into his car and drove to the indicated location. Then, he got out and walked to the open field. He spread a blanket on the ground and lay down on his back, staring up at the stars. He just looked up for a long time, not noticing the passage of time.

"They're beautiful."

Tim sat up and looked around. He couldn't see anyone.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

Tim stood up. "Where are you?"

"Behind you."

Tim turned around.

"Thom!"

Thom smiled. He was no longer only twenty years old. He was...different, but the same.

"They're beautiful," he said again, looking up at the sky.

"Yes."

"Do you remember, Tim?"

Tim looked at up.

"Tell me," he said.

Thom chuckled.

"There's Lyra. You can't see it, but the Ring Nebula is there. Cygnus the Swan. Auriga." Thom continued pointing out the various constellations. Tim followed along easily. They began saying the names together, the exact same intonation. They continued all around the sky and then stopped, looking at each other.

"Thom..."

"I have to go now, Tim."

"Where?"

Thom just smiled.

"Tim!"

Tim heard another voice. He turned around.

"Bye, Tim. It's okay."

"Tim!"

Tim kept turning. He seemed to be alone in the clearing now. He walked toward the other voice he could hear...and got tripped up in his blanket, toppling to the ground.

...and then, he opened his eyes and looked up at Tony.

"Tim! Are you okay?"

Tim sat up and looked around.

"Thom?" he said softly.

"Tim! Talk to me."

"I was asleep?" Tim asked.

"Well, you were when I got here."

"Oh. Just a dream..."

"What was?"

"Thom..."

Tony sat down, facing Tim, his expression uncommonly serious.

"You know what, Tim?"

"What?"

"Since you said you have Thom's memories...maybe it wasn't just a dream."

"Then, what was it?"

"A connection, maybe? I don't know. You okay?"

"I'm fine. I just wanted to see the stars. I did."

"Then, you're leaving?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"Why don't you wait?"

"For what?"

"Thom showed me the stars. ...maybe you could show everyone else?"

"Maybe...but they'd have to get out here."

"You have something else to do?"

"I guess not."

"You okay with that?"

Tim thought about it...and then smiled. "Yeah...yeah, I'm okay with that, Tony."

"Great!"

Tony headed back to his car to call, leaving Tim alone again. He looked around.

"Thom?"

No answer. There never was...but this time...this time, it didn't matter that there was no answer. He thought back in his mind to his past...back to happier times.

...and then, he thought about Thom's last request.

"_Don't forget me."_

"I won't forget, Thom. I'll never forget."

As he waited for the others to arrive, he looked up at the sky once more.

"Lyra. Cygnus. Auriga. Hercules..." He smiled. "I remember."

FINIS!


End file.
